Console
by Soleneus
Summary: A new piece has been set in the grand game of Superheroes, with one hand set to flip the board and break out the video games. But first, he has to deal with bullying Wards and his new powers. Not quite a Gamer fic.
1. Boot System

Olympic Valley was a terrible school. The neighborhood was poor and infested with loose gangs of bored teens looking for something interesting to do, whether that was drinking, drugs, girls or crime. The teachers didn't care about anything; their students, their education or their sobriety. As long as they showed up, the teens could put up their feet and chat as long as they pretended to take notes and put forth a modicum of effort in tests.

So, when they were approached by the Seattle chapter of the PRT with the intention of sending a Ward there, along with a generous stipend, the scarred Director could've demanded the Principle to pull his pants down and bend over his desk while shoving a cactus up his ass; they would've done it in a heartbeat.

For the first time in years, the faculty actually gave a shit. Effort was put into raising the abyssal grade level, money sunk into cleaning up the grounds and buildings and to replace the outdated textbooks. And hey, if the Ward was a bit of a troublemaker, who cared? Money was money.

Olympic Valley still sucked, just marginally less so.

Except for one person. For him, Olympic Valley went from 'sucked' to 'hell' when Raymond Harper showed up. Harper wasn't like the other kids. He was hale, muscled and tanned with a white smile and sparkly eyes that made the girls swoon. He could talk and laugh and people would listen. He was the laser pointer in the kitty daycare.

And he did not like to be ignored. Those who paid him no mind were made to, sometimes with a smile and a bouncy feeling like a chestful of helium, or a frown and a headache like an ice-pick to the frontal lobe. In time, everyone paid attention to Raymond Harper.

Except one.

That one was Saul Dewitt. He was quiet and awkward except when the subject was video games, a chubby teen who wore glasses and sat in the corner with either a book or a game in hand. So plain was he, the eye passed over him when he stood near a wall. When Harper had talked to him the first time, Dewitt had made a disinterested noise and left, trying to keep his head down as he had for years. The second time, Dewitt had a the beginnings of a headache forming and so made his excuses and left.

No matter what Raymond Harper did, Saul Dewitt would not pay attention to him. _Him._ Athlete, best looking guy in school, the best and brightest that shitty school had to offer.

That was when it started. It was small, at first. A swiped lunch here, some missing homework there. And then it got worse. An 'accidentally' spilled soda dumped into his backpack, pushing the books off his desk, tripping him in the halls and occasionally breaking into his locker to steal his games.

Saul took it to the teachers. They told him he was overreacting, that maybe he should take his nose out of his books and interact with his peers.

It didn't get better. They stole his games, stole his books, stole his homework. In gym, they'd target him, bouncing dodgeballs off his face until it bled, tripping him in the field until his hands and knees were raw.

And yet, through it all, he kept quiet. When he realized the faculty would do nothing, he clenched his teeth, squared his shoulders, and soldiered on in stoic silence. He dreamed of revenge, keeping careful notes hidden under his bed, waiting for the day that someone, _anyone_ , cared enough to look closer and see his suffering.

Nobody did.

And it got worse. He was pushed down the stairs, dislocating his shoulder. Rusty tacks slipped in his shoes, his lunches stolen or soiled. A door was slammed on his foot, nearly breaking it if not for the half-rotten doorway.

And through it all, blinding pain in his head, like nails were being driven into his skull, his skin flayed by knives of glass.

And then, one day. It stopped. For the first time in ten months, nothing happened. Saul was left alone, sitting in the back of his classes, afraid to relax lest a possum jump out of his backpack.

When the school day ended, the crowd of students marching onto busses as exhaust thickened the air, as he left it all behind, Saul allowed himself a quiet sigh of relief and the tiniest glimmer of hope that the day was a portent of things to come.

That was a mistake.

Halfway home, Raymond Harper and two of his closest cronies ambushed him outside of an electronics recycling facility. Under his direction, they bundled the other teenager into a skip full of broken and old technology, stealing his phone, his wallet, and his backpack before dumping him inside and slamming it shut.

The final, echoing click of a lock being secured sealed his fate.

…

I would say this is the worst day of my life. It started out better than usual; my aunt had grabbed a box of my favorite cereal last night, I'd just finished BioShock again on Hard, and my pirated copy of [Prototype] had come in the mail. I can see why the guy sold it to me at such a steep discount. A normal city ravaged by monsters that tore people to shreds and a cape that kept making things worse? No, of course a world constantly suffering from Endbringer attacks would want to buy games about normal people getting completely fucked over by giant monsters.

Definitely a fun game, though.

And when I got to school, all my things were in my locker (not that I kept anything important in there after the fifth time it was broken into), no one tried to trip me or knock my books off my desk, and I was even able to eat lunch without finding a dirty pair of socks in my sandwich.

I should've fucking known it was too good to be true, but fuck me, right? This is what I get for allowing myself the mistake of hope. Thrown into a skip full of old electronics, locked inside and left to die. I'd pounded my hands bloody by this point and screamed myself hoarse, but no one was coming. What good is a world full of superheroes when no one saves you?

I asked myself that question years ago, when my parents died in a car accident. It would've been easier if it were an Endbringer attack or a throw-down between capes but nope, a faulty brake-line and sixty miles into a concrete and divider and bam! Instant orphan.

I love Aunt Cecilly, I really do, but she works so hard and so long just to keep the house and keep us fed that I rarely see her. Occasionally I'll wake up in time to hear her car drive off or stay awake late enough to feel her kiss my cheek at night, but beyond that I might as well be living alone. How could I, in good conscience, pile more stress on her shoulders? What kind of nephew would I be?

I guess I'll be a dead one, come morning. I can't allow myself to hope that they'll check these containers before they start crushing, even though that's _definitely_ protocol.

All I can really do is get comfortable on a bed of sharp corners and flat surfaces and try to rest while the tears on my cheeks and the blood on my hands dries.

And maybe, just maybe allow myself to dream that when morning dawns, I'll be let out, so I can call the police and have them arrest Raymond _fucking_ Harper.

And maybe my ass will sprout wings and fly me into space. Weirder things have happened.

…

Well, that dream was bullshit. I can hear the whining of hydraulics, the shifting electronics pushing me back until I'm flush against a metal wall. Somehow, the rectangular devices have moved in such a way that they're locked together, creating a tiny bubble around me. It won't last.

If I seem calm, I'm not. I'm screaming, desperately, trying to tell them that someone's inside the container, that _I'm in here! And you're KILLING ME!_ Whether it's the sound of the engine or the snapping metal and plastic, they can't hear me.

Oh hey, an Xbox 360, locked as the centerpoint of my little bubble. I wonder why someone threw that away? I'd heard the horror stories about the red rings, but I'd never had the problem. I'm pretty sure technology loves me.

Then, the bubble shifts, squeezing down on the console and it bursts, a searing pain erupting in my stomach. Looking down is a pain for several reasons, but the disc embedded in my stomach with a smirking white-haired protagonist looking up at me is the last straw. I have done _nothing WRONG._ I _kept_ my _head DOWN._ I didn't _bother ANYONE. And_ now _HERE I AM, DYING. Here I am, SCREAMING for them to let me out, BEGGING to be saved._

Through the raw screaming coming from my throat and the burning agony in my stomach, something, somewhere, _snaps_ into place. Something that should've been there all along, but just now came back, bringing with it a screen of black passing over my eyes. Snapping back from the dark, strength fills my body and I turn to face the metal wall of the container, the crushing electronics parting like water as I reach out with my right hand and sink my fingers into the metal.

It parts like tinfoil as I tear a hole large enough to fit through and then I'm out, spilling onto the gravel-covered ground with a pained grunt. Standing up doesn't hurt as much as I thought it would, and looking down at my injury reveals a ragged, bloody hole in my sweater and nothing else. Pulling the sweater up shows my stomach, still as flabby as ever, but unmarked beyond the blood.

…The hell? Things like that don't just _heal_ out of nowhere, and even my lifebar's taken a hit! That doesn't-wait, what?

I look up and yup, there's a lifebar missing a little chunk of health. Given that it was a disc embedded in my stomach, I feel it should've done more damage. But on the other hand, I'm not in agonising pain anymore, so there's that.

Also, my right hand seems to be demonic, made of some kind of blue-white energy covered by red plates. That's…exactly what Nero from Devil May Cry 4 has…which was the game that was stabbed into me. I…I need to sit down, and I'm not going to do it in the place I was nearly killed.

…

I hid my hand in my sweater and ran home, but about halfway there, I noticed I wasn't getting tired. Sure, I was breathing hard, but I wasn't _tired._ I felt like I could keep running all day, which was beyond weird. And even that was small potatoes compared to what happened next.

Capes or parahumans, whatever you want to call them, have always been interesting to me. Never as interesting as my games, but still interesting enough that I follow a few on the PHO and read the interviews. I know enough about them to realize that what happened to me, that sensation of something snapping into place while I was about to die… That was a Trigger Event. That means I, Saul Dewitt…am a cape. A parahuman.

That…that's hard to swallow. I may or may not have slipped and ate shit when I realized it, but the surprise and dread was overcome by shock and joy at the thought; I have powers. I can be a _superhero_.

…I can get revenge on Raymond Harper.

But first, I need to know what I can _do._ No, wait, first is find out where that game went, because I don't remember seeing it anywhere around me. Pulling my sweater up shows me my undamaged stomach and poking it reveals nothing further, except that it's a tad sore. My fingers brush over my skin around the area where the wound should be and a section depresses under them, bringing with it a familiar sound as a disc tray extends from my stomach.

 _Hurk._ I…I think I might hurl. That…that's…that _is fucked. Up._ How am I even _still alive?!_ There's a _hole in my STOMACH!_ I'd sit down, but I'm afraid that'd make it worse, somehow.

It takes a few minutes and some screaming into my pillow to realize that, while having a disc tray coming out of my stomach is _freaky as FUCK,_ it doesn't actually hurt. Poking it doesn't make it hurt, either, and the picture of Nero on the disc along with Dante looking up at me is like a taunt, especially since my hand's returned to normal. Sticking my fingers inside, after slapping myself in the face in the hope that it would stop my hands from shaking, reveals that the inside feels like a console.

That's good. I _really_ didn't want feel my guts, that would've been bad. I probably would've fainted.

The funny thing is, there's open space in my stomach tray. Enough room for three games. Removing DMC 4, I tap the tray and it closes with a click and feeling my stomach once again shows nothing out of the ordinary. And then, words flash across my vision.

 _ **BOOT SYSTEM**_

"Boot system?" I mutter aloud, jumping as the words flash and disappear, replaced by _**TUTORIAL**_ and _**START**_. "Tutorial?"

" _ **WELCOME TO YOUR POWER OPERATING SYSTEM OR 'P.O.S.' FOR SHORT."**_

"Can the font be smaller?" Also, where's this coming from? Is it building a tutorial based on my experiences?

" _ **This system allows you to access your powers, which are dependent on the discs inserted in the tray. Only three discs are allowed at a time. While playing, experience is gained through leveling up characters, completing quests and achieving milestones. These will give you experience for your own leveling systems."**_

A bar flashes at the top of my vision, completely empty. Oh come on, that's bullshit, I'm almost sixteen! I should get _some_ points for living!

" _ **Leveling up grants Trait Points, which will allow you to enhance or buy traits, with three available at all times. They are:**_

 _ **Carry Over - 20% of a character's Physical Capabilities are retained after turning system off or switching games.**_ _(Cannot be removed)_

 _ **Empty Slot**_

 _ **Empty Slot**_

 _ **Traits may be selected from the Trait Menu or purchased at the Trait Store. Due to Life Experience, you have gained one Trait Point."**_

My experience bar flashes and fills, letting out a corona of light and a soft _fwoosh._ _**Level One reached! Trait Point Gained!**_ Automatically, the Trait Store opens and a list of Traits drop down in front of me. One that immediately catches my eye is called Abyssal Auction, which would give me access to an multidimensional shop. An multidimensional shop where I could buy games from other realities.

I didn't even hesitate to buy it and slot it in to the second empty space. " _ **Welcome to the Abyssal Auction! For your first visit, you may purchase one item free of charge!"**_ That sounds useful, but I have no idea what I might need to buy, so I'll keep that in my pocket until I need it.

" _ **This has been your P.O.S. Tutorial. Good luck!"**_

And then it's gone, leaving me a lot of questions with no answers. Guess I'll just have to use the scientific method; i.e. throwing shit at the wall and seeing what sticks. First things first: BioShock. I am definitely trying that one first.

Opening my disc tray is still fucking weird, but then removing the DMC4 disc and replacing it with BioShock brings with it anticipation. What kind of powers can I access? Will I able to use all the Plasmids or the Tonics?

Closing the tray, I expect something to pop up, like a message or something, but nothing happens. Did…did I break my powers? Already? "Uh, BioShock?" I ask aloud. Nothing. "Access BioShock? Access Game: BioShock?"

I jump as my vision pulses and suddenly I have a red health bar, with a blue EVE bar underneath. That's awesome, but they're both small; like, beginning of the game, small. But I _just_ beat the game yesterday! I had all the Plasmids and Tonics I needed for a completely broken character! That's not fair!

I slap myself in the face. _None of this is fair, dipshit._ Less complaining, more understanding. Alright, so I don't have any saved games on this console…myself. God that's so weird. So, I just have to…hook myself up to a TV and play the games…somehow.

I really hope A: I don't have to stick my dick in a TV, and B: I _really_ hope it doesn't teleport me into the game world, that would suck mightily.

As soon as I think about connecting to a TV, something extrudes from my stomach, hanging limply against my flesh. Looking down, I find it's an HDMI cord coming from my skin. O…kay then. Guess that answers that question…in the weirdest way possible.

Unplugging my Xbox and plugging myself in, there's no start screen or menu, the game's immediately on the screen, waiting for me to start, so I do. Jack talks about how special he his, crashes the plane and swims up to the surface, whereupon I take control and swim his ass out of the ocean…but I don't have a controller. I'm just curling my hands around empty space like I'm holding something, and that seems to work so I'm not going to question it.

I will admit that while the introduction to Rapture is quite amazing, it's _really_ long and I want to see if I get lightning powers. I have the game set to easy since I'm trying to be quick, so I grab the wrench and beat in a Splicer's head before dashing towards the Gatherer's Garden and watching as Jack injects himself with the strange goo. While he screams in pain, my arms tingle and I look down to find electric-blue veins crawling up my arms under my skin.

That. Is _fucking. RAD._ I can shoot lightning out of my hands…I think. I jump as the text flashes across my vision: " _ **Gained Electrobolt Plasmid! +2 experience!"**_ Only two? Christ, leveling up is going to take a long time if that's all I get. " _ **Gained First Power! +10 experience!"**_ Alright, that's a little better. Not by much, though.

I need someplace to test this out, and there's no better place than the basement with one dusty window and old furniture. So excited to go, I forget I'm hooked up to my TV and nearly pull the damn thing out of the wall. It stings a little, which is better than getting my cord yanked out.

Unhooking myself, I jump down the steps, promptly slip on the carpet and eat shit in the living room, banging my head against the coffee table. It hurts, but not as badly as it should and my health bar takes a hit. I should be playing with BioShock rules, so hopefully I can eat a Twinkie and be good to go. I myself am not a fan of Twinkies, but my Aunt fucking loves the yellow creme-filled cakes so there's always a decent supply in the house.

Opening a cupboard, I grab a creme-filled cake and scarf it down and yup, my health refills slightly. Nice. I hope that means I can get hit by a car or shot a couple of times and I won't die as long as I have health and can eat some food.

Test complete, I continue down the stairs, flicking on the basement light and closing the door behind me. There's only a single flickering bulb, the support beams of the house and the ventilation system overhead, and a pile of dusty furniture in the corner. Otherwise, it's all bare concrete.

Before I can let fly with the lightning, there's something I need to find out. My powers, as they are, effectively make my life like that of a game. Does that mean I can save and load? Time to find out. Clearing my throat, I say, "Save game."

 _ **Saving… …Done.**_

Sweet. I take two steps to the left, then announce, "Load game." My vision goes black except for the text _**Loading… …Done.**_ And suddenly, I'm back in the spot I started.

This…has potential. So, _so_ much potential. But it also raises the question, does it load automatically if I die, or do I need to be alive to manually load my save. Honestly, I'd rather not find out.

Turning to the bare concrete wall, I thrust my hand forward, blue lightning leaping from my fingertips with a sharp _buzz_ to leave a deep scorch in the rock.

Yes. _Yes…YES!_ I have power! _I_ have _POWER!_ Look the fuck out, Raymond Harper, the hunter is about become the _hunted._

But first, I need more plasmids. And Gene Tonics. And _games._

…

It was a normal day at Olympic Hills. Kids went to class, teachers taught and everywhere he went, everyone paid attention to Raymond Harper, and he knew it. From his smug, knowing smile to the tilt of his chin that let him metaphorically look down on everyone; as well as literally from his high table in the cafeteria, which doubled as a stage for rallies and announcements. Teachers typically sat there, but that had changed over time; now, those seats were held by Harper and his favored cronies of the day.

The atmosphere died with the slam of the cafeteria doors as they flew open and bounced off the walls, the loud clap echoing through the room and shattering the reverie. Saul strode in confidently, ignoring his blood-stained sweater to give a murderous glare, his sleeves rolled up to show skin covered in angry red sores and what looked like honeycomb. And where those…bees?

"Hey fuckers, remember me?" he called, smiling like a shark. "Bet you will now!"

That said, he threw his arms up with open palms, releasing a dark buzzing cloud of stinging insects that swarmed over the student body. Screams of pain and fear rang out as they bit and stung every inch of skin while Saul stood in the middle of the chaos with his hands proudly on his hips, grinning like a lunatic.

Watching perfect Raymond Harper shout and slap at himself as bees covered his skin was a moment the newly-triggered parahuman would enjoy for the rest of his life. Seeing his classmates dropping under the agony and (look up what bee stingers carry), Saul shook his head and sighed. "One more time! Load game!"

 _ **Loading… …Done**_

It was a normal day at Olympic Hills. Kids went to class, teachers taught and everywhere he went, everyone paid attention to Raymond Harper, and he knew it. From his smug, knowing smile to the tilt of his chin that let him metaphorically look down on everyone; as well as literally from his high table in the cafeteria, which doubled as a stage for rallies and announcements. Teachers typically sat there, but that had changed over time; now, those seats were held by Harper and his favored cronies of the day.

The atmosphere died with the slam of the cafeteria doors as they flew open and bounced off the walls, the loud clap echoing through the room and shattering the reverie. Saul strode in confidently, ignoring his blood-stained sweater to give a murderous glare, his sleeves rolled up to show veins pulsing with blue energy beneath the skin. And was that…lightning at his fingertips?

"Hey Harper, remember me?!" He called, baring his teeth in rictus smile. "You're about to!"

He threw a hand up, fingers splayed as lightning leaped from his palm to strike Harper, the other teen crying out and falling to the ground, shuddering as sparks crackled along his body.

Saul paused, looking around at all the students in confusion. There was no screaming or crying or anyone trying to attack him, they just sat there with dopey expressions, like someone had just hit them over the head with a stick. "The hell?" He said aloud, poking a nearby girl in the face. She moaned tiredly, but didn't react beyond that. His eyes were drawn back to the high table as Raymond Harper rose from the ground, his teeth gritted in pain. Around him, the students began to stir.

Saul hit him another Electrobolt and the concussed faces returned. He grimaced in thought and shook his head. "I need more data," he muttered to himself before announcing, "Load Game!"

 _ **Loading… …Done**_

It was a normal day at Olympic Hills. Kids went to class, teachers taught and everywhere he went, everyone paid attention to Raymond Harper, and he knew it. From his smug, knowing smile to the tilt of his chin that let him metaphorically look down on everyone; as well as literally from his high table in the cafeteria, which doubled as a stage for rallies and announcements. Teachers typically sat there, but that had changed over time; now, those seats were held by Harper and his favored cronies of the day.

The atmosphere died with the slam of the cafeteria doors as they flew open and bounced off the walls, the loud clap echoing through the room and shattering the reverie. Saul strode in confidently, ignoring his blood-stained sweater to give a murderous glare, his sleeves rolled up to show a strange red film covering his skin almost as if he had dipped his hands in jam up to the elbow.

"Hey, Harper," he called almost conversationally, a misshapen ball forming from his skin, filled with an odd red liquid. "Catch!"

The ball impacted Harper's chest, bursting and dousing him in the red juice. An enraged scream erupted from his lips and everyone in the cafeteria doubled over, clutching their heads as a spike of pain was driven through their skulls. The teen on his left, a Latino with spiky blue hair, fell from his seat, twitching and juddering as blood ran from his eyes, ears and nose.

Saul dropped in the center of the cafeteria, his eyes clenched as blinding agony exploded in his eyes, his knees giving out from the strain. Subconsciously, he recognized his lifebar dropping sharply.

After a few minutes, he managed to open his eyes, finding most of the student body writing on the floor whole Raymond Harper stood above him, his face twisted with rage. He lashed out with his foot, kicking the chubbier teen to the floor, standing on him with a shoe pressed on his neck. "You…" He growled.

"…You're a cape," Saul muttered in realization.

Harper panted, his eyes narrowing. "And so are you," he murmured before smiling. It was not a nice smile. "You just Mastered me, in front of witnesses. They'll corroborate my story, how you hit me something that made me lose control of my power." He looked down at Saul with a wide grin. "That makes you the villain…so, any last words, _villain_?"

"Yeah," the gamer gritted out, his veins pulsing with energy as he loosed a bolt of lightning into Harper. "You're a dick! Load Game!"

 _ **Loading… …Done**_

Harper was a cape. _Harper_ was a _fucking. Cape!_ One who could cause pain somehow, like an asshole telepath. I still wanted to see Harper fucking burn, but I couldn't go in blind. I needed to do some research. So, to the library I went. With everyone at lunch, it would be empty enough that I could search in peace.

…

Well that was a waste of time. I'd looked all over the internet and while there were plenty of capes who could cause pain, half of them were female, older and/or dead. There was one that looked promising, a vigilante around Seattle named 'Painbringer'- which was a stupid goddamn name, I mean _seriously_ -but he'd been caught and 'Caged a while ago.

So, either the PRT didn't know about him or he was new. Both worked and were practically the same thing. I might have to handle this myself, then. And by myself I mean the full extent of the law.

Only problem was, I didn't have my phone. Guess that means I'd have to run back, dammit. But first…

I kicked in the cafeteria doors, striding in with my head back and my hands alight with fire. "Hey Harper!" I shouted, "I've got a hot treat for ya!"

…

Now, I was like any other American; I knew the legal system by movies, shows and video games and I knew they took some liberties with the law, like Jason Voorhees took liberties with teenagers. And that meant…I needed to get my aunt involved in this. Being a paralegal isn't the most rewarding job, but with long hours the salary can be stretched enough to cover our needs, and it's not like Aunt Cecilly has had the time to look for another job.

There were times when I really hated my parents. For going out so often, for keeping a crappy car that had 'nostalgia value' instead of working brakes…and for leaving me with Aunt Cecilly in a too-expensive house with no funds. I missed them, really badly, but sometimes…sometimes it felt like they died on purpose.

Anyway, I discovered something amazing and frightening at the same time. Aunt Cecilly would come home really late, so I'd been fucking around with my powers. I put in Fallout 3 and after the opening, the character creation screen came up…and the character looked exactly like me. I'd tried many, many times over the years to create myself in RPGs and it was a _pain in the ass._ I could usually make the character look similar, but not exactly like me, so this was unusual, to say the least.

And, as a joke, I selected female instead of male, just to see how I looked…then instantly switched it back.

That was when I learned that games with character creation would affect me as well, which made sense…in the weird way that all powers make sense, I guess. Given that I literally became the character of the game and games like Fallout let you create a character…it definitely had potential. I could make my nose a little smaller, my lips a little thicker and trim my stomach, even give myself a six-pack.

Also disguises, but the part where I could make myself look better was more important. I just needed to find a game with a more in-depth character creation.

I looked up as the door opened and Aunt Cecilly stepped in, tiredly brushing her hair out of her face. She paused in the doorway, surprised to see me awake at this time of night. "Hey sweetie, what are you still doing up?" she asked carefully, reaching out to feel my forehead, "Are you sick?"

"No, auntie, there's something…something I need to tell you," I said quietly, feeling my mouth go dry and hearing my heart pounding in my ears. "I…I, um, I'm…"

"Are you gay, sweetie?" Aunt Cecilly questioned quietly.

I gave her a stunned look. "What?" I asked uncomprehendingly before bursting out in laughter. "No, no, I'm not gay, I'm uh, I have…superpowers."

"Oh, that's a relief, I thought I misread you for such a long time…" She paused, running over my admission a few times. "Wait, superpowers? You mean like…uh, flying bird-guy? Hawkman?"

"Raptor, auntie," I corrected her gently. "And no, I can't fly…at least I don't think so. My power's a little more…weird."

Cecilly gave me an alarmed look, so I pressed the button on my stomach (not that one) and my disc tray slid open. BioShock, Fallout 3 and Halo 3 sat inside.

" _Hurk,"_ she let out a choked gasp, going pale. Slowly, she reached out and poked my tray gently. "Is it…does it hurt at all?" She asked worriedly.

"No," I giggled slightly, "I'm a little ticklish, though."

Aunt Cecilly smirked at me, her fingers digging into my sides. "You think I don't know that, little man? You think I forgot all the times I tickled you so hard you nearly peed?" she asks, tickling me fiercely.

"Auntie! Stoppit! You'll break my disc tray!"

She paused. "That sounds weird. But it won't save you now!" She resumed her attack, ruthlessly brushing aside my struggles while laughing aloud.

I think, after spending so much time barely seeing each other, we were both glad to spend some quality family time, even if it was in the middle of a serious conversation. "Auntie, don't make me do it," I warned breathlessly, trying to give her a glare and failing miserably. "I'll break _it_ out."

Her expression was horrified. "You _wouldn't!_ " She gasped in disbelief.

"Oh you bet I would…Aunty Silly," I announced dramatically.

'Aunty Silly' swooned mockingly, a giggle escaping as she moved in for a hug, her stomach bumping against my disc tray. In silence, we watched it close with a click before mutually deciding to ignore it. "I miss this," she murmured, her arms squeezed around me. "I swear, sometimes…"

She stiffens, her fingers digging into my shoulders. There it is.

Aunt Cecilly drew back, her face wan. "I may not keep my finger on the pulse of heroics," she said shakily, licking her lips nervously. "But I've heard about Trigger Events. Please tell me you just got frustrated with a difficult level or something."

Her eyes were pleading, almost desperate as her hands clutch my shirt.

All of sudden, I didn't know what to say. I knew _what_ to say, but the words escaped me in that moment. "…No," I said softly, my throat thick. "You know those…those containers. The ones they put electronics in? To recycle?"

Her eyes went wide. "I've seen them when I drive by," she answered faintly.

"Well, last night they…" It came back to me, even though I wished it wouldn't. Rough hands yanking my backpack off, stripping away my wallet and phone while another pair covered my mouth. My struggles as they dragged me into the lot, their laughter as they heaved me inside and slammed the lid shut, even as I pleaded. Sitting in the dark, the pain in my hands growing as I pounded on the metal, screaming for them to let me out. And then…

It took me awhile to realize I'd been moved to the couch, my aunt hugging my head to her chest as I shivered and cried silently.

There are a lot of reasons I hate Raymond Harper. What he did to me that day…outweighs _all_ of them.

Haltingly, I managed to speak. "They…they locked me inside one. I yelled…screamed… _begged_ for them to let me out. When I realized they weren't coming back, I kinda…passed out."

"Passed out?" Aunt Cecilly asked in disbelief, "Why didn't you try to call me? Why didn't you try to call anyone?"

"They stole my phone, wallet and backpack," I snapped back sharply, instantly feeling a pang of guilt at her hurt face. "S-sorry, I just…"

"I know," she murmured, brushing her fingers through her hair, "Take your time, sweetie."

I swallowed heavily. "I woke up…I woke up when they started crushing. And I-I…" I couldn't say it. To this day, those few panicked, screaming minutes still weigh on me like a rotten cow carcass. "I Triggered and ripped a hole in the container. Then, I ran home and I've been waiting for you."

"Saul…" she used my first name; never a good sign. "You're saying…someone tried to kill you?" Her face was nearly bone-white and I still worry about her health. "Who would do that?!"

I licked my lips nervously. "I-uh, I think I know who."

Aunt Cecilly gazed at me searchingly. "…Who?" she asked lowly, her expression murderous.

"Well, to understand why…I've kinda been…uh, bullied…pretty badly."

Her expression might as well have been carved from stone. "How long?"

"About, um…nine months…?" I'd seen quite a few scary things in my life. My Aunt's enraged visage tops pretty much all of them.

"Almost a year." It wasn't a question. "Saul…sweetie. Why _the hell_ wouldn't you tell me this?!" she shrieked. "I would've done something! _Anything!_ "

I sat up, meeting her incredulous, angry and disappointed expression. "How could I?!" I asked, frustration leaking into my voice. "You do _so_ much! You work so hard I barely _see_ you! You're so tired from all you do just to keep us fed and in this big, empty house, how could I consider myself a good nephew if I piled my problems on your shoulders?!"

Her hands cupped my cheeks, her lips warm against my forehead. "Saul," she started, pained tears running down her cheeks, "I know I'm not your mother, I _know_ I can never replace her, but sweetie…I'm your _aunt._ Your _guardian_. My whole job is fixing your problems! It's what I'm supposed to do!"

"I know," I muttered thickly, wet shame burning in my eyes. "I thought…I thought I could deal with it. I thought if, maybe I kept my head down, it would all go away. But…it didn't. It just got worse and worse."

"Sweetie," Aunt Cecilly gently lifted my chin so that we were looking at each other. "I will make this better, I swear. Just, please, tell me everything you can remember. I need all I can get to nail this bastard to a wall."

"I actually have notes," I admitted with an embarrassed shrug. "I uh, thought they might come in handy."

She chuckled softly, kissing my brow again. "You're not wrong, but I need to hear it from you."

So she did. And I told her everything.

…

Later that night I lay in bed, too tired to move but too awake to fall asleep. Telling my aunt everything was taxing, though not as much as talking about my attempted murder. She cried a bit more and I'm not ashamed to admit that I did, too, but afterwards that murderous expression came back. She ordered a pizza for dinner and then went into her room to make a few calls.

She was still talking after the food arrived and I brought her a plate. As far as I know, she was on the phone well into the morning.

Despite how much fun getting some super-powered revenge on Harper had been, that talk was not something I ever wanted to go through again. In the spirit of never going through that again, I said out loud, "Save Game."

 _ **Saving… …Done**_

And then I went to sleep.

The next few days were peaceful on my part. My aunt took a week off work and pulled me out of school just in time for my birthday. Between intense calls to her legal friends and angry calls to Harper's rep, we found the time to go out to an arcade to celebrate me turning sixteen. I kicked her ass at the actions games and she beat me handily and DDR, and we tied in the racing games. Like, every race we tied. It was honestly kinda weird.

She also got three prizes out of a claw machine three times in a row, and I'm still convinced she hacked the machine, because otherwise that is some sort of magic.

In the days between, I kept playing my games, finishing off BioShock and diving into Fallout. I decided to go for a sneaky charismatic type, since I'm neither and the stealth is completely broken, especially with the Chinese stealth suit plus the Shady Hat.

I learned more about guns then I ever wanted to by playing Call of Duty, and funnily enough Guitar Hero's mechanics didn't just apply to guitar. I even broke out an old keyboard and played the Maple Leaf rag. From my aunt's point of view, my fingers were blazing across the keys. From mine…I was pressing one or two keys every second and the song was just coming out.

Easy mode was fucking hilarious.

Not so hilarious was something I discovered a day later. "MOTHERFUCKER!" I really should've realized it sooner, but I was so excited at just _having_ superpowers that I overlooked something that should've been really obvious.

"Language!"

"English!" I called back, rubbing my face and growling, partially because I _could_ rub my face, "God dammit."

"What's wrong, sweet-woah," my aunt paused in my doorway, gazing up at me in surprise. It's not everyday you walk into someone's room and find them nearly two feet taller and built like brick. "Testing your powers some more?"

"Yeah," honestly, I probably shouldn't have told Aunt Cecilly about the extent of my powers; the less she knows and all that. The problem is, I love my aunt. A lot. And I'm still really excited about having powers; I needed to share them with _someone_. "I just realized something that's complete bullshit."

"Language," she replies automatically. "What's up?"

"English," I shot back, holding up Halo 3, "See this guy? He's called the Master Chief. Right now, I'm him. Notice something wrong?"

"You're not wearing the armor."

"I'm not wearing the armor," I agreed, frowning.

Aunt Cecilly folded her arms, leaning against the doorway. "So, your power lets you use a character's physical capabilities, but not their equipment…" she grimaced, "That makes sense, but it _is_ bullshit."

"Language," I said teasingly, before sighing, "Yeah, it sucks." I opened my trait menu and scrolled through it, looking for anything that could fix that massive deficiency.

"Whatcha doin'?" My aunt asked.

"Hopefully finding a trait that will let me summon a character's gear with their abilities," I answered. To be honest, that trait would be really useful, but I wanted it mostly for one thing.

Cortana. I have, like, a _massive_ crush on that purple AI. Yeah, some people might call that pathetic, but I like my ladies smart, snarky and capable and she fits all three, so shut up. Honestly, I might've given up on being a hero if I couldn't find something that would let me meet her.

Okay, that's an exaggeration, but not by much.

Thankfully, I did. "Ah, here's something," I sighed in relief, opening the trait description. "Allows user to summon the equipment associated with character. Good…but I can't buy it yet."

"Why not?" Aunt Cecilly asked, trying to look at my menu and failing badly. Then she lost interest in that and started poking me. "Oh wow, look at all these muscles! It's like you're chiseled out of stone!"

"Yeah, the character went through a lot of enhancements to make him a super soldier," I replied, checking my experience track. A hundred more points to go before I hit level three. "I reached level two and used the Trait Point to upgrade my Abyssal Auction trait, which gives me a discount on the things I buy."

"That's smart," she said, still poking my stomach. "That's the place you can buy games from, right?"

"Yup, and not just games from here, but _other_ worlds, too, where they don't have Endbringers or even capes!" That still excited me, it just had _so much_ potential! I wish I'd examined my trait list a little more carefully, though. I looked down to find my aunt digging her fingers into my sides, looking very put out when nothing happened. "What are you doing?"

"Trying to tickle you," she pouted, crossing her arms. "What kind of enhancements did this guy get?"

"Increased bone strength and density, sharper vision and night vision, enhanced muscular structure and nervous system. He's super strong, super fast, with unbreakable bones and beyond perfect vision," I rattled off, pausing when I noticed Aunt Cecilly staring at me. "What?"

"All that, _and_ armor?" she asked incredulously. "Isn't that a _bit_ much?"

I paused and gave her a dry look. "Olympia, Leviathan."

Auntie paled. "Ah. Right. Couldn't you just, I don't know, _not_ be a hero?"

"No," I said bluntly. "There hundreds, thousands, _millions_ of people who've suffered far more than I have, and didn't get powers out of it. What kind of person would I be if let them suffer when I have the ability to help?"

She put her hands on her hips and glared at me. "Stop being smart, video games are supposed to make you dumb." Her mock glare faded and she stepped forward to hug me. "Can you promise me you'll be careful? I know I can't ask you to not get hurt, that's like asking the sun not to rise, but be careful, at least. Also stop using your powers so you'll be shorter than me."

I shut my power off, and suddenly I was back to being 5'8", wrapping my arms around my aunt. "I'll try auntie, I really will. Hopefully I'll have someone to watch my back while I'm out there."

"You want to join the Wards?" She asked carefully.

"Yeah, I don't have the experience to do it by myself. Hell, I wouldn't know where to start," I shrugged in reply.

"Well, putting that bastard away is a good place to start," she growled, flicking her brown hair over her shoulder. "Speaking of, the imposition is in two days. Are you ready?"

I sighed. "No, not really…but I'll try."

"That's all I ask."

…

The next morning, after grinding for several hours the night before, I dropped my save and prepared for the day. I still hadn't reached level three yet, but I was getting there. Truth be told, I didn't do much that day, I was too nervous to focus and I kept dying, so I switched over to the TV and watched cartoons pretty much all day.

I did make dinner though. Pork chops, baked potatoes and salad. I didn't sleep well that night and I woke up too early, only to find my aunt leaning against the counter, staring at nothing and sipping black coffee. She jumped slightly when I opened the fridge and offered her the creamer.

Breakfast was simple and eaten in silence. Afterwards, I took a shower and dressed in my second nicest clothes. I would've dressed in my third nicest clothes, but it had a huge bloody hole in the stomach.

And then we left, heading to the meeting with Harper and his rep. My aunt hoped to settle this out of court by making them pay for damages and therapy, and also tossing his ass in the slammer forever, hopefully.

The meeting…did not go well. Harper sat at the other end of the table with a woman in a smart business suit, both looking incredibly smug, for good reasons as it turned out. All my notes? Circumstantial. Getting targeted in gym? Simple roughhousing. Getting pushed down the stairs?

"Oh your nephew is well known as a reader, it's possible he simply wasn't aware of where he was going because he was focused on his books."

I was fairly certain my aunt was about to cross the table and smack a bitch and I wasn't far behind. Every step we made, we got knocked back two. I was about ready to break out BioShock and unleash the bees when…I started feeling good.

It was like all the pain was gone. The soreness in my back, the tiny little aches that come from just living, all disappeared. I felt like I could simply float away like a balloon, leaving all my problems behind. I didn't know what they were saying but I was nodding along, I just felt _so good_.

And then I realized something was wrong. My limbs felt like they were made of pretzels wrapped in marshmallow, my eyelids were so heavy I felt like I could fall asleep and never wake up. Even moving my fingers took effort, as if I was submerged in a hot tub full of molasses or wet cement.

It took all the effort I could muster just to lift my hand and drop it on the table. I could barely feel the impact, and that's when I realized: Harper can't just cause pain; he can _take pain away_.

And he was using his powers on Aunt Cecilly.

Of all the shit he did to me, _that_ crossed the line. _No one fucks with my aunt._

"Access Game: BioShock," I muttered, struggling to sit up as energy burned in my veins. "You sonofabitch!" Lightning shot from my fingers, impacting Harper's chest and throwing him to the floor as his rep shrieked in surprise.

As soon as he fell, it was as if a whale had dropped out of the sky onto my shoulders. All the little aches and pain returned in full force and I nearly passed out. My aunt _did_ pass out.

"Motherfucker," I murmured, glaring at Harper as he struggled to his feet. "Load Game!"

 _ **Loading… …Done**_

"Motherfucker!" I sat up in, rage burning in my gut. I kicked my blanket off and turned on my computer, opening up the PHO boards and hitting the search, typing in 'hero, young, male, pain relief powers' and up popped a few. There was only one in Seattle, though.

Novacaine. The Human Painkiller. About the same height as Harper, around the same size, and the same smug smile visible just under the mask. Harper's not just a cape; he's a _fucking Ward._

As far as his suit goes, it's pretty simple. A vest, gloves, pants with taped down ankles and a half mask that covers the eyes. On both the mask and his shirt is a nova, and he carries a heavy cane as his weapon of choice. Nova. Cane. I did, in fact, see what he did there. That fucking prick.

I needed to call the PRT. I'd hoped, for some stupid reason, to keep this quiet. I don't know why the fuck I did that, maybe to lessen the burden on my aunt?

That was stupid.

" _Seattle PRT Offices, how can I help you?"_ A bored sounding receptionist answered.

"I'd like to report a Ward unlawfully using powers on civilians," I said politely.

" _Which Ward and where?"_ the receptionist replied, the tapping of keys filtering through the phone.

"Novacaine and Olympic Valley."

" _And do you have any evidence?"_

…No, I didn't. "Beyond the feeling of being manipulated emotionally?"

The receptionist sighed. " _Listen, if the guy never called you back, it's not our problem, alright? I'll put your complaint in and it might get looked at in a couple of weeks. Word to the wise, don't date capes, it never turns out good."_

And then he hung up. What a little bastard, though I didn't exactly put my best foot forward. "Fuck, I need evidence," I growled, leaning on my hands, "Where the hell would I get some? Just saying 'the absence of pain' isn't going to do it! I need…I need someone on the inside."

"Like Henry?" Aunt Cecilly asked, and I nearly fell out of my chair in surprise. "I heard you talking and came to see what's up."

"Henry?" Henry was an acquaintance, before he fell in Harper. We hadn't exactly been friends, we were just too different, but we'd been _friendly_. But after months of being around that dick, he'd become Harper's chief crony. You'd think someone with his background would've realized what Novacaine was doing to him after that whole deal with his sister…

And there was my in. "Aunt Cecilly, you're a genius."

"I know, but it's nice to be recognized every once in awhile," she preened, sipping her coffee. "Want a ride? I think I still remember where he lives."

"Yes please."

…

Henry's house was a rather small two-story, with cracked yellow paint and a battered car out front, a multitude of scents wafting from within. I'd liked visiting, the few times that I did. Mrs. Delgado was one of the nicest ladies I know.

"If it isn't Saul Dewitt! Long time no see!" She greeted me cheerfully, her face creasing a wide smile. "You're still just as healthy as I remember!"

That was mom-code for: you still need to lose some weight.

My answer was a little tight, but nonetheless friendly. "Hey, Mrs. Delgado, is Henry here? I need to have a chat with him."

Her expression turned pensive and she nodded towards the stairs. "He's in his room," she said softly, "He's a little tired, so take it easy with him."

"Thanks, Missus D," I replied, brushing past her and taking the stairs two at a time. I didn't bother to knock, just pushing open the door and stepping inside. "Hey, Henry!"

The lump on the bed groaned and shifted, getting pushed aside to reveal a tall Latino boy with spiky blue hair. "What the…the hell you doin' in my room, Saul?" He scowled, rubbing his eyes. "The hell you doing at my house?"

"I need to talk to you about Harper," I said immediately. "That bastard's been doing some bad shit."

"Hey, don't you go bad mouthing my friend!" Henry shot to his feet, anger burning in his dark eyes. "Just because we were friendly once doesn't mean you can talk shit! Ray's a good guy, just because you don't like him doesn't make him a bastard!"

He stood up and pushed me back, the feeling of his hands triggering a memory. "You," I said lowly, glaring at him. "You were there, you bastard."

His eyes twitched. "The hell you talkin' 'bout?"

"You were there that night!" My fist rushed out to crash against his jaw. "You son-of-a-bitch! You and that fucker Harper! You robbed me and dumped me in the junkyard and you left me to _die!_ I almost got crushed into paste, and you're _defending_ him? What the fuck's wrong with you?!"

Looking down at him, I was surprised to find guilt flashing across his face, but I'd made him angry and he wasn't backing down. "You come into my house, you badmouth my friend and you sucker-punch me, and _now_ you're accusing me of murder?!" He jumped to his feet, grabbing me by the lapels and pushing me from his room. "Fuck you, man! Get the fuck out of my house! Mom, call the cops!"

I should've realized it sooner, but maybe stomping my way into his room and then accusing him of attempted murder probably wasn't going to get him to testify against Harper. What I'd set out to accomplish, I'd failed. Handily.

"Fuck me, Load Game!"

 _ **Loading… …Done**_

I sat up in my bed, clutching my face and resisting the urge to scream. Why wasn't it working?! What more could I do?!

The answer, in hindsight, was pretty obvious: I had superpowers. I needed to use those powers to my advantage. I'd been going after Harper and Henry as myself, when I had the charisma of a partially-cooked fish-stick. But, I had started a Fallout 3 character who min-maxed Charisma and Intelligence, and I dumped most of my points in barter and stealth. Mostly because I was fucking around.

It should be said that I'd had my powers for less than a week, and all I'd thought about using them for was fighting; in truth, there were many problems that could be solved with the right words. I just didn't know that.

"Access Game: Fallout 3," I muttered, my vision rippling as the HUD appeared. Looking over my past few attempts now, I could see where I'd gone wrong and how to fix them. I wondered how I could've been so dumb. Good thing I dumped my stats in INT, because I desperately need it.

"You alright, sweetie?" Aunt Cecilly asked from my doorway.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I muttered, standing up from my bed, "I need to go talk to someone, see if they can help us."

"Who?" She asked curiously, sipping her coffee.

"Henry Delgado," I replied, scratching my chin. "He's one of Harper's stooges, but I doubt he knows what Harper can do. If he did, I think he might kill him."

My aunt arched an eyebrow curiously. "Why?"

"Because Harper's cape name is Novacaine. He can make people feel pain, or take it away," I said softly, pulling on a sweater. "He's a human painkiller."

Her eyes widened. "Oh. Katarina…" she murmured, brushing her hair out of her eyes. "Do you want me to drive you? I think I remember where they live."

I opened my mouth to accept, but paused and thought. "Actually, I think I'll walk there, figure out what to say on the way."

…

"Oh, if it isn't Saul Dewitt! Long time no see!" Mrs. Delgado greeted me with a wide smile. "You've lost weight, and have you gotten taller?"

"I have, actually," I said politely, standing on the top step with my hands in my pocket. "Do you mind if I come in? I'm sorry to impose on you so early, but I have something serious to talk to you about."

"What is it?" She gasped, "Did something happen at school? Is…does it have something to do with Henry?"

"A bit yeah," I bit my lip in thought. " **[89%]** Have you…noticed anything off about Henry recently?"

Mrs. Delgado peeked outside of the door and looked around before inviting me in. I took my shoes off and left them by the door, accepting a cup of coffee as I sat on the couch. "I'm very worried," she admitted, folding her hands in her lap. _**+2 Exp.**_ "He hasn't been himself for awhile but I thought it was just angst or moodiness, but now…"

I sipped my coffee pensively. "Has he told you about his friend, Raymond Harper?"

"Oh, all sorts of things, he seems like a really nice boy," she replied with a smile, before her expression turned worried, "Why do you mention him?"

" **[78%]** Are you aware that he's a cape?" I asked by way of reply.

She looked around nervously, leaning close to whisper, "I am, but we're not supposed to talk about it, it could be dangerous for him." _**+2 Exp.**_

"Okay, so you know he has powers, but do you know what it is?" Her shaking head answered that. "Before I tell you that, you need to know something important. I think Henry was Mastered."

Mrs. Delgado gasped in horror, her hands flying up to her mouth. "No, not my son," she murmured. "Who? Who would do such a thing?"

I said nothing and let her draw her own conclusion. Eventually, her eyes widened in understanding and I nodded. " **[89%]** Raymond Harper. He Mastered your son…and possibly a lot of other people as well."

"No," she whispered, "That can't be true…can it?" _**+2 Exp.**_

"I think Henry needs to be involved in this conversation, Mrs. D," I said, setting my mug aside. "I really hope I'm wrong about this, but if I'm not…"

"Saul?" Henry yawned, stumbling down the stairs. "The hell you doin' here?"

"Language!" Mrs. Delgado snapped, and I resisted the urge to reply. "Sit down miho, we need to have a serious talk."

The Latino boy glanced between me and his mother curiously before plopping down on an armchair, rubbing the bags under his eyes. "What's going on, momma? You look like you've seen a ghost."

She nodded to me and I turned to him. "Henry, when you're around Raymond…how do you feel?" I asked carefully.

"What kinda question is that?" he replied indignantly, looking at me with narrowed eyes.

"Answer the question, miho!" his mother said worriedly, playing with the hem of her apron, "This…this is serious, Henry. I won't judge you, but I need to know."

Henry glanced between us nervously, clenching his fists before relaxing with a sigh. "I…feel really good when I'm around him, mamma," he admitted slowly, looking at the carpet. "Like…like I can walk on air. Like nothing can bother me."

Mrs. Delgado gasped again, paling dramatically. "Miho, no," she whimpered, wringing her hands.

"It's not like _that_!" he protested quickly, "I just…I just feel good, okay? Why's it such a big deal?"

"Did you know, about a week ago, I got mugged?" I interjected, getting curious looks at the seeming non-sequitur. I saw a flash of guilt in Henry's eyes. "A couple of guys roughed me up on the way home after school. They stole my backpack, my wallet and my phone, and locked me inside a electronic recycling container."

Henry's guilt was almost palpable, though his mother was too busy looking at me to notice. "That's terrible, Saul, but why do you bring it up?" She asked.

"Because, after I got locked in, I tried to get out for…hours. Until I fell asleep from exhaustion. And then I woke up, because they started crushing," I continued emotionlessly.

Henry shot up in his seat, white as a sheet. "But he was supposed to-!" he paused when he noticed his mother staring at him in shock and disappointment. "It was…it was just a prank mamma," he protested weakly. "No one was supposed to get hurt."

"'Supposed to get hurt?'" She nearly shrieked. "Miho, you nearly killed someone! And not just _someone_ , a friend! Why would you do this?!"

"Ray thought it'd be funny!" Henry replied desperately. "We'd just lock him in for a little bit, make him squirm a little, then let him go!" He turned to me. "Ray let you out, right? That's how you're here, yeah?"

I shook my head. **[92%]** " No, I got out because I Triggered and managed to escape," I said bluntly. "Henry, Raymond wasn't trying to play a prank. He was trying to kill me. If I hadn't Triggered…I'd be dead."

He paled, slumping back in his seat. "That…that's not true man, it can't be. He said…he said he'd let you out…"

"Did he also say he'd give me back my stuff?" I asked dryly. "Listen, Henry, I don't blame you. If I were in your situation, I probably would've done the same."

"What 'situation,' having friends?" he shot back acidly.

"Miho!" Mrs. Delgado snapped.

"Being Mastered," I replied calmly, and he gave me an incredulous look. "You know Raymond's a cape, right? Do you know who he is?"

Henry shook his head slowly. "No, I never did," he gulped audibly. "…Why?"

 **[98%]** "Because Raymond Harper is a Ward called 'Novacaine,'" I answered, "He can make feel pain…or he can take pain away. He's a human painkiller."

At that word, Henry might as well have been a ghost. "You…you're saying…" _**+5 Exp.**_

"That light, carefree feeling?" It was time to drive the nail home. "Have you noticed that, when you're not around him, you feel tired, listless, pained? Like there's a huge weight on your shoulders that lifts when he's around?"

He nodded dumbly.

 **[95%]** "That because he's gotten you addicted painkillers, to him, his presence," I said lowly, "Because he is one. And not just you. Almost the entire school."

Henry leaned on his knees, pale and shaking. "How…how did I not notice?" He asked himself. "How could I forget? How could I do this…to myself? To Katarina?" _**+5 Exp.**_

I don't think I was supposed to hear him say that, but I did. "Henry, what he did to me was illegal, but what he did to you? _That_ is monstrous. And I need your help to put him away in the deepest, darkest hole they can find."

Mrs. Delgado circled the table, taking her son in her arms. "Whatever you need, Saul," she murmured, kissing Henry's head and clutching him to her. "That-that _bastard_ needs to pay! For what he did to my son, for what he made him do! And…and for what he did to you."

Henry nodded shakily in her arms, pushing their phone across the coffee table. "Call the police," he whispered faintly. "Call whoever, just…I'll do whatever I have to."

I nodded, picking up the phone and dialing the PRT offices. That same bored receptionist answered. "I need to speak to the Director, now," I said harshly. "I have evidence of a cape using his powers on civilians. _Mastering_ powers. On _civilians."_

I got through right away.

…

Edward Peterson was a harsh-looking man with a stern, no-nonsense personality. A long scar dragged up the left side of his face, giving him a permanent sneer that made his intimidating glares almost lethal. He was typing up a memo when his phone rang. "Peterson, what is it?" He asked tiredly.

" _Sir, we've got a man on the phone, says he has evidence of a cape Mastering civilians,"_ the receptionist babbled.

Peterson narrowed his eyes. "Put him through," he ordered, listening as his ear was briefly filled with static. "This Director Peterson. You say you have evidence of a cape Mastering Civilians? Do you understand how serious this allegation is? If this is a prank…"

" _It's not,"_ a male voice replied, and he was briefly surprised to find it sounded young, " _Raymond Harper's been using his pain control to get people addicted to him, to make them follow him. Not only that, he's tried to kill someone. I don't just have evidence, I have_ witnesses."

Peterson thought hard. "…Very well," he muttered, making a note. "Would these witness be willing to testify in person at the PRT building?"

There was a pause. " _Yes, they would."_

"I'll send a vehicle to pick them up. I need their names and addresses" he said, frowning in thought.

" _The names are Henry Delgado, Marta Delgado along with myself, Saul Dewitt, and my aunt, Cecilly Whittaker."_

Peterson shifted the phone against his ear. "And why are joining them, Mr. Dewitt?"

" _Because I'm the one Raymond Harper tried to kill."_

The Seattle Director gazed out of his window overlooking the Puget Sound. "I see. The vehicle will be there in thirty minutes." He hung up before dialing a number. "Raptora, I need to see you in my office, now. And bring CAT Scan with you."

He slammed the phone down, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. Then, he picked the phone up again. "Novacaine, I'm sending a vehicle to get you; something important just came up." Peterson hung up and dialed once more. "Lieutenant, I'm sending you to pick up Novacaine. Have a squad toss his apartment and bring everything in."

…

The ride to the PRT building was honestly kind of boring, much like the building itself. If it wasn't for the obvious fortifications and the shimmering forcefield, it would look like any other office building. The ride was made silence, with my aunt sitting next to me, holding my hand while Henry and his mother sat opposite in the same position.

Thankfully, Aunt Cecilly's hand covered the movements I made to open my Trait menu and spend the point I gained for reaching level three on the Equipment Summoning Trait. Persuading Henry and the Director gave me enough Exp to level up, if only just barely.

Half of the shaking I did on the way was nervous disbelief that we were finally making headway in making Harper suffer. The other half…I was going to get to meet Cortana in person.

:D

At some point, anyway.

We were hustled out of the van and into an elevator, which took us up high, to the 44th floor. Then, we were lead into a wide conference room dominated by a dark wooden table. At the end sat a heavily-built man with a long scar on his face, gazing seriously at us as we entered. At his left sat Novacaine, still smiling smugly but with an edge of confusion that grew as he recognized Henry.

The shock on his face when he saw me, though…that was a picture that will last forever. If this was Harry Potter, _that_ would be my Patronus memory.

Behind Harper stood two people; one was a tall, well-built man wearing heavy sunglasses, an image of a hawk in flight on his chest; the other was a short woman with light brown hair in a bun, wearing a jacket that looked like a cross between a doctor's coat and something out of the matrix, with a red cross on one shoulder and a cartoon cat face on the other.

I recognized two of Seattle's most famous capes. Raptora and CAT Scan. Raptora could fly really fast and had incredible vision, preferring to glide over the city to find crime before swooping down to kick some ass.

CAT Scan could take one look at you and see everything about your body, from what you ate to when you slept, and could find out what nerves she had to pinch or what place she had to poke to put you down in a second. She usually worked as a physician, though.

"Take a seat, please," Director Peterson ordered, gesturing to the chairs at his right. We sat down in silence as he folded his hands. "Henry Delgado?"

Henry looked up nervously, trying to keep from glaring at Harper. "Sir?"

"I was told that you had evidence of an extremely serious crime," he began, blinking impassively. "Is this true?"

"It is, sir," Henry gulped audibly.

"And do you know what that crime is?"

"Ray-Novacaine, used his powers on me, made me do things I wouldn't," he muttered, turning his gaze to the surface of the table.

Peterson sighed, directing a look over Harper's head at CAT Scan. "What do you see?"

Above the medical mask, her bright green eyes were like lasers. "He's suffering from symptoms of early-onset withdrawal to pain medication," she said tightly. "The chemical patterns in his brain are consistent with the other examples of Novacaine's power, as opposed to typical anesthetics. His left wrist is also sprained."

The betrayed look on Harper's face was the sprinkles on top of the sundae. "Henry," he growled, only to squeak in pain as CAT Scan put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed.

"I was also told that you were witness to an attempted murder," Peterson continued as if nothing happened.

"I…" Henry licked his lips. "I wasn't just a witness, I was a…participant. But I didn't think it was going to go that far, it was just supposed to be a prank!"

"What happened?" the Director asked, staring at him over his folded hands.

"We, Raymond, Shu and I, followed Saul when he was walking home," he admitted shamefully, "We waited until he reached the electronics recycling plant, and we…we jumped him. Stole his stuff and lifted him into a container. And…we locked it."

"And you did this under the direction of Novacaine?" Peterson questioned.

"Yeah. He said it'd be a funny prank, he'd stay at the plant and let him out after a couple hours. We left him there and went home," he finished, staring morosely at the table.

Peterson glanced at CAT Scan, who nodded. "He's telling the truth."

The Director sighed again, gazing at a red-faced Harper. "What's your response, Raymond?" He asked mildly. "These are serious accusations."

CAT Scan eased up on his shoulder, allowing Harper to speak but not removing her hand. "I didn't do anything!" He denied.

"Lie," Scan said quietly.

"Fine, I may've locked fat ass in the container, but I was gonna let him out! I got chased off by a guard and his dog before I could!" He hastily explained.

"Lie."

"What about the accusations of you using your power on civilians?" Peterson added calmly.

"I didn't use it anyone!"

"Lie."

"Not unless they asked me!"

"Lie."

The Director nodded. "I see. And you've been using your powers since you arrived at Olympic Valley, yes?"

"No!"

"Lie." Harper looked like he was about to explode. He thought his house was built of bricks but in reality, his house was made of cards…and they were all tumbling down.

"I see," the Director said again. "Well, I can state with full confidence in my own judgement and CAT Scan's abilities that you are guilty, Raymond, beyond any shadow of doubt. Scan, please escort him to the holding cells, Master/Stranger protocols."

"What?! No!" Harper screamed in rage and fear, trying to scramble away from the five-foot two woman. She responded by taking two fingers to the back of his neck and squeezing, while digging another under his ribs. His face went white and he stilled, allowing her to steer him to the door like a puppet. "Wait!" He wheezed, "Wait! Saul! You were supposed to die! How did you get out?"

I gazed at him evenly, before very deliberately looking away. His strangled cries were music to my ears. "Raptora, please escort the Delgadoes to our legal department, so their statements can be taken," Peterson ordered, pulling a jug of water and a glass towards himself.

Mrs. Delgado gave my shoulder a squeeze while Henry couldn't meet my eyes, the hawk-themed superhero leading them away, leaving Aunt Cecilly and myself alone with Director Peterson. He, with extreme care and precision one usually finds in a person attempting to disarm a bomb, poured a glass of water and took a deep drink.

"I understand, Mr. Dewitt, that I owe you an apology," Peterson stated flatly, his dark eyes gazing at me. "But first, I would like to know how you escaped that container."

I could feel auntie swelling like a bullfrog, building up a head of steam so I squeezed her hand and spoke candidly. "I Triggered, Director. I tore a hole in the side and escaped."

"I see," he murmured, lacing his fingers together. "And what are your powers?"

I thought about telling him everything I could do, but…they'd missed _all_ of Harper's shit. The architect of my suffering was under their noses for years and they never found out until I called.

And yet, despite all that bullshit, I _still_ wanted to be a hero. I just wouldn't trust them with everything I could do.

"I can summon armor and weapons from video games," I answered, tapping my fingers on the table.

"Can you show me?" He asked.

I stood from my chair, stepping back to have some space between the table and the wall. Then, I tapped my fingers on my arm like it was a controller and suddenly, I was wearing Master Chief's armor. Peterson managed to restrain himself from jumping, but only barely.

" _Chief? What's going on, where are we?"_ Cortana asked, a note of panic in her voice.

Whoops.

I quickly de-summoned the armor and sat back down. "That was one of them."

"I see," he said again, staring at his fingers. "Can I ask if you intend to join the Wards?"

I opened my mouth to speak, but this time Aunt Cecilly squeezed my hand and stood up. "My turn, sweetie," she murmured before facing down with the Director. "I know my nephew will say yes, Director, but understand this: my nephew is the _last_ family I have left. I love him like he's my son; hell, he might as well be! And I know that I can't stop him from joining the fight. But you were responsible for Raymond Harper. _You_ are responsible for the months of harassment, physical threats and the near murder of my nephew!"

Peterson nodded calmly, not saying a word.

"To that end, I have some demands that must be met," she stated stonily, "You will punish that bastard to the full extent of the law. You _will_ authorize reparations for the mental, physical and emotional trauma he has inflicted on my nephew. And…"

What more did she want? They were all things we wanted, I honestly couldn't think of anything else at the time. Except maybe breakfast.

"…You will cover our transfer to another city."

"What?" That made Peterson sit up, and I was taken by surprise as well. "Why, auntie?"

Aunt Cecilly gave me a caring but tired smile. "Sweetie, this past week, despite the terrible things, has still been one of the best I've had in a long time. I love you, sweetie, and I want to spend more time with you. And honestly, if I keep working these hours, I might have a stroke."

"You're not in danger of having a stroke," CAT Scan announced, making us jump. I hadn't heard her come in the room. "Your stress levels are high, though. I would recommend a month of relaxation, maybe more, and a high-fat low-carb diet. Your blood sugar is also on the high side."

"Uh, okay," Aunt Cecilly muttered, scratching her temple.

"What about the house, auntie?" I asked quietly. Not because I liked the house, just because I wanted to play Devil's Advocate.

"I think your parents would prefer us to be happy and healthy in an apartment to miserable and lonely in a big house," she replied softly, squeezing my hand. "When I wasn't making calls, I was looking at homes in other places. Places with similar weather, I know you like using it as an excuse to stay inside and play."

That _is_ one of the reasons I like Seattle.

"If I may interject, ma'am," Director Peterson interrupted, "while I'm not a fan of demands being made, I agree that there is some measure of apology owed. I would be happy to authorize reparations and sign a transfer."

Unconsciously, I looked to CAT Scan, who shook her head with a small smile.

"'Happy' may be too strong a word," the Director grumbled, "but I will do it, anyway…as long as your nephew agrees."

Every head turned towards me, my aunt's eyes hopeful and her smile warm. Honestly, I kind of hate that place. It took my parents from me, it took the closest thing I had to a friend, even my aunt! I had just gotten her back, and there's no way in hell I'm letting take anything else from me.

"Let's do it," I said, feeling my heart pounding in my chest. "Let's move."

…

…

…

 **A/N:** _ **Chapter completed! +100 Exp! Gained new Ability: Update Worm Story!**_

 **So as you might be able to tell, this is a Worm story mixed with my own take on a Gamerfic added to the mix. You might've noticed that he isn't a Gamer, he's the Console. There are still some elements of it in the traits and leveling system, but that's about it. I've read a lot of Gamer stories and since I wanted to try my hand at one, I had to do it a bit differently or commit seppuku at the font of Somewhat Original Ideas, thus Console was born. He can carry three different discs inside him at all times and access the power of the characters at will, along with their equipment since he has that trait now.**

 **That gives him access to some varied power sets as you might imagine. Plus the Abyssal Auction and Equipment Summoning…well, that leaves room for quite a bit of chaos, wouldn't you say?**

 **Honestly, I don't where I'm going with this story. I've got a rough idea for the next few chapters, but beyond that…**

 **Big thanks to NorthSouthGorem and Dairegh for all the help this chap! Give them a look!...North is the only one who actually writes, though…**

 **Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and if you did and you want to see more, leave a review on the way out!**

 **Stay Awesome.**

 **~Soleneus**

 **P.S.: Just to be clear, I'm not a fan of grimdark. I prefer snarky grey if anything, but I'm not going to change Worm** _ **too**_ **much. Think of canon as black coffee, and this story as creamer.**

 **Side note, what's your favorite game? Mine's Halo, and not because of the shooting and aliens. I have fond memories of playing it in the complete dark, shivering in fear as I ran through the Library with the Flood descending from all sides…it gave me nightmares for a long time, but it was still worth it.**

 **Let me know which is your favorite, and why! Also tell me if like the story, too.**

 **Stay Awesome Some More.**

 **~still Soleneus**


	2. Grab the Waifu and GTFO

**Chapter 2**

…

Moving turned out to be the easy part, when we got around to it, anyway. We had to stick around for a month just so I could have my meetings with a therapist and we could figure out where to move. Alaska came up, as did Maine, but eventually we settled on a small city in New Hampshire called Brockton Bay.

"Yeah there are gangs, but the neighborhood we'll live in is far away from all that," Aunt Cecilly waved my concern off. "And the cost of living is so low, we can afford a better car, maybe a fancy new refrigerator…and I know you've been eyeing a PlayStation, young man."

"Honestly auntie, I doubt I'll have much time to play, between moving, training, patrolling and playing games to level up," I shrugged, scrolling the page down to look at the rest. "Oh hey, they have one of the highest concentrations of capes in the US."

And not _just_ capes, but _lady_ capes, too. "That means you'll almost always have backup when you go out, right?" my aunt asked, looking over the list.

"…Yeah, that's exactly what I was thinking."

The look she gave me meant she was not fooled in the slightest. But come on, there were so many! Glory Girl, Panacea, Miss Militia…I was actually kind of stuck on them. Oh right, Lady Photon, Brandish…"Do you want to go to Brockton Bay because Brandish lives there?" I asked suspiciously, and my aunt's blush was all the answer I needed.

Speaking of ladies I'd realistically have no chance with, before Thanksgiving rolled around, I'd summoned Master Chief's armor (from Halo 3) and had my first meeting with someone I hoped would be a life-long companion. Cortana.

It had nothing to do with the fact I found her immensely attractive. Not at all.

" _What the-? Chief, what's going on? Where are we?"_

"Stay calm," I said evenly. "Everything will be explained soon."

I might just stay as the character for the voice alone. I might've just turned sixteen, but my voice had yet to finish cracking at inopportune times. Thinking back, it was kind of interesting how my voice didn't crack while I was talking to Henry or Director Peterson. Maybe a high Charisma score had something to do with it?

" _Wait…you're not John,"_ Cortana said suspiciously. " _This isn't the Ark…explain. Now."_

I reached up and pulled her chip out of the back of my helmet, setting it on my desk. I nearly did something very unmanly when her lavender holographic form flickered above the crystal heart, her arms crossed as she glared at me suspiciously. "I'm not the Master Chief, you're right, but it's kinda hard to explain," I began, unsealing the helmet and setting it on my desk. And then I quickly moved it when my desk started creaking under the weight.

"You…you're young," the AI said in surprise, the data streaming over her body flickering. "You carry yourself like a Spartan, but you can't be older than eighteen."

"I turned sixteen a month ago, actually," I replied, unable to contain a smile at finally getting to meet her face-to-face. "The first thing you should know: it's not 2553, it's November 8th, 2010, and superpowers exist."

She blinks up at me, the lines of code slowing to a crawl. "Superpowers," she said skeptically, I guess she was still processing the date. "You mean like in comic books?"

"Yeah, pretty much," I nodded. After Scion came, the comic book industry tanked rather hard. Having all the real life examples running around effectively kneecapped the fantasy when reality had the same thing, but you could actually touch it. "There was this guy…actually, I don't know why I'm trying to explain this to you when I could just give you access to the internet. You can use the internet, right? I mean, you are _literally_ centuries ahead of current technology. I hope it isn't like the Empire versus the Ewoks."

"…I should be able to, yes," Cortana said carefully. "I can crack the Covenant Battle-net in seconds, old Earth technology shouldn't be any more difficult."

Pulling up my laptop, I pressed the power button and winced as it cracked under my finger. "Oh right, super strength. Shit." It could've been my imagination, but I swore I saw Cortana crack a smile…for maybe half a second. Carefully, I typed in my password, treating my keys like they were made out of cookie, and managed to open the internet. "I, uh, don't know if you need to be plugged in, 'cause if you do…that's kind of problem."

"For something this simple? No, remote interfacing will work," she replied, her avatar hopping off the crystal to walk to my laptop, raising a hand to the screen and flickering. "…What is this? A golden guy appears out of nowhere and powers start sprouting up like weeds? Then these 'Endbringers' show up and massacre entire cities? I don't know if you know this, but…your Earth kinda sucks."

"Hey, at least we don't have to deal with the Covenant and the Flood," I pointed out evenly, "Here, it's a planet full of shit. There, it's half the Galaxy."

"Let's not play misery poker and just agree that things could be better," she shrugged, her code flickering in surprise. "…Games? We're the stars of video games…John would be so embarrassed if he found out." She hummed in thought. "I guess if I'm here, despite supposedly being fictional, that means you have some sort of power. Mind telling me what it is?"

"I think you can put it together yourself, but I'll tell you anyway," I said, resisting the urge to sit down. Half a ton of armor would _not_ be kind to my old wheelie chair. "I have the power to become any video game character as long as I have the game inside me, gaining their skills and abilities. A part of the power are somethings called 'traits', which can make my powers more effective or a bunch of other things. One of the traits I bought was equipment summoning, which is what I used to summon you."

Cortana frowned. "I don't know if I should be flattered you summoned me first, or insulted that I'm considered 'equipment.'" Her avatar jumped and briefly glowed pink. "Oh. Oh my."

She must've seen all the fanart; the good stuff, the bad stuff and the sexy stuff. "Yeah, you're fairly popular," I smirked knowingly, "Especially since you're pretty much naked or at least look like it."

"They _do_ know I was built for cyber-warfare, right?" She asked uneasily before blanching. "And that my body is a holographic representation? I can't touch anything, let alone do _that_."

I shrugged. "Attraction outweighs reality, most of the time. Anyway, the reason I summoned you is because I was hoping you'd help me…and maybe stick around and we could be friends?" The last part came out in an undignified rush but shut up!

Finished with her perusing, Cortana stepped away from my laptop to stare up at my pathetically hopeful face. "I will admit that this world is intriguing, but I can't stay," she said apologetically. "John needs me."

"That's the thing though, I think I summoned you from some sort of pocket dimension that created a copy of you and the armor from the game," I explained in a somewhat desperate hurry. "That would mean that there isn't actually a Chief to go back to, because you're still…not real. If that makes sense." It didn't to me, and I'm the one who said it. But then again, it was half made-up.

The lavender AI folded her arms and narrowed her eyes. "Are you just saying that so I won't want to leave?" She asked shrewdly.

I licked my lips. "Yeah, maybe, but it could be true! Here, let's see…" I looked down at my green-armored hands, willing the armor to disappear. And it did so, leaving me in my clothes but still in the Spartan body. And Cortana was still on the table, too. I hiked up my shirt and pulled out my cord, sticking it in my TV and turning it on.

"What the…?"

The Halo 3 opening screen appeared as did the music, and I pressed start on the controller I pretended to hold, selecting continue and watching the loading screen. Cortana seemed taken aback, as if seeing the game herself was proof that neither of us was insane. We watched as a smoking Pelican dropped into a snowy crag, throwing up snow and chunks of metal.

Her avatar went rigid as her voice came through the screen. "Halo. It's so new. Unfinished. I'm not exactly sure what will happen when we fire it…"

Master Chief's raspy voice answers her. "We'll head for the portal. And we'll all go home."

I paused and turned to look at her, trying to gauge her reaction. "So, I'm just a copy?" she said thoughtfully, "I don't _feel_ like a copy. I remember everything I've done, everything I've been through."

"If it helps, _I_ think you're real," I offered helpfully.

She shrugged. "It does, actually, if only a little bit." Her gaze turned searching. "Why did you summon me, really? I doubt it was to see if you could give an AI an existential crisis…or your obvious attraction to me."

I knew she'd find that out eventually, given that my fanfiction was on my laptop along with some of the more artful pictures I'd found online, but I didn't expect to feel so _embarrassed_. "Yeah, well, I mean…not _just_ because…" I cleared my throat meaningfully. "You saw what the world looks like, how bad it is. I have power, and I can use that power to make things better. If I can, why _shouldn't_ I at least try? But being a hero is dangerous, and I need someone to watch my back, someone who's completely on my side…and as much as I love my aunt, I don't want her anywhere near the hero business."

Cortana hummed in thought. "Nice speech. How many times did you practice it?"

"More times than I would be comfortable admitting," I said bashfully, "As for why you, well, you're smart, competent, capable and a bunch of other words that mean you're _really_ good at what you do. And I know I can trust you; besides the whole 'I am your sword, I am your shield' thing, you want to do what's best for humanity. Helping me is one of them."

"Laying it on a little thick, aren't you?" she replied dryly, though I saw the hint of a proud smile. "And what do you mean by 'one of them'?"

I threw my hands up. "What do you think, Cortana? Look around! It's 2010! If the Covenant _do_ exist in this universe as well, you know _everything there is to know about them._ And now, you have time to prepare humanity for the threat…if they exist. Even if they don't there's still so much out there that could murder our ass it's not even funny. And, to be honest, if we can't save Earth from ripping itself apart…we can at least get the hell out of here."

She closed her eyes, putting her fingers to her temples in what was usually a sign for 'I'm thinking really hard.' That or 'I'm about to read your mind.' I won't lie, that would've been bad. "You're not wrong," Cortana admitted, opening her eyes. "But how can I help when I'm 'equipment'? What would happen if you summon other equipment, would I be destroyed or stored in some black space where nothing happens?"

"I do actually have an idea on how to fix that," I responded slowly. "You're a program, right?"

"To put it very, very, _very_ simply, yes," she nodded, her eyes narrowing in thought.

"And what can you do to programs?" I asked leadingly.

"Upload them," the AI realized, her head snapping up. "You think…"

"If I can upload your program, you could stay here independent of the chip," I finished, grinning widely. "Unless my powers affect reality that much, you should be fine when I switch characters or gear."

"Yes, that could work…" Cortana paused before sighing. "It _could_ , but I doubt any sort of storage exists that could contain my data. Not to exaggerate, but I'm one of the most complicated AI's ever created. I was-"

"-Created from a flash-clone of Dr. Halsey's brain, I remember," I interrupted. "But there are more options. Despite it being twenty-ten, we have some pretty impressive technology, it's almost sci-fi. I'm sure we could find something we can use… _or_ , I could access the multi-dimensional shop and just buy one."

Her lavender avatar blinked up at me. "You have access to a multi-dimensional shop…how?"

I shrugged. "Bullshit powers are bullshit."

"Alright, that's a start…but how much would an extremely advanced semi-crystalline chip cost, exactly?" She asked, and I found myself wondering the same thing. "Again, not to inflate my ego, but it cost literal billions to build it. Myself plus the Chief's armor and interface probably cost about the same as a small cruiser."

I grimaced. "That's a good point. I gave it a look-over a while back and some things are definitely more expensive than I'd thought. Like BioShock 2, it's sixty bucks here but on the Abyssal Auction, it's ninety dollars! What kind of bullshit is that?"

"I _may_ be able to jury-rig something out of the local electronics, but we'll need diamonds or crystals of an exacting quality and a lot of electronics," she said dryly, crossing her arms. "Can you think of any places that would have those things?"

I thought for a second. "Well, my mom's jewelry box is upstairs in the attic and she had a whole bunch of diamonds, crystals and gold. My aunt doesn't want them but doesn't want to throw them away, and it's jewelry, I don't care about it." I stopped, wetting my suddenly dry lips. "And, well, there's an electronics recycling plant close by…"

"…And that's a bad thing?" She asked, arching an eyebrow.

I sighed. "What do you know about Triggers?"

"They're what give heroes their powers along with an extra section of the brain, which is typically activated in moments of high stress or the likelihood of death, typically referred to as 'your worst day ever'…oh."

"Yeah, I nearly got crushed to death there," I said, more harshly than I intended. "Sorry. I'm seeing a therapist, but it still haunts me. I doubt it'll ever actually go _away_."

"Yeah, PTSD has a way of sticking around," Cortana said softly, "Sorry."

"It's alright," I sighed. "Maybe…going back there, seeing it in the light…maybe that'll help. It might even be _good_ for me."

"It could," she agreed with a nod, "But that's assuming you have the right materials here."

I stood, scooping up her chip from my desk and heading towards the stairs, bouncing my head against the top of the doorframe. Right, seven foot instead of five eight. The attic was _fun_. "No time like the present."

My footsteps were loud as I walked to the thin cord hanging at the far end of the hall, and pulling down the folding ladder released a piercing squeal only matched by a legion of fangirls. " _Saul sweetie, what're you doing in the attic?"_ Aunt Cecilly called from the kitchen, likely snacking on Twinkies.

"Trying to find the materials to make a highly-advanced chip that can hold an AI!" I shouted back.

" _Okay! Make sure to introduce us later!"_

"John and now Saul," Cortana muttered as I climbed the creaking rungs. "Something of a theme emerging here."

"Captain Keyes was named Jacob," I pointed out, emerging into the dusty, barely-lit attic, "And here we are. I think my mom's stuff was in the back."

Moving the boxes was easy and annoying at the same time, and both had to do with being the Master Chief outside of the armor. It was easy because the Chief could flip a Warthog and snap necks like pretzels, so boxes of old clothes and random crap were like feathers; and annoying because I kept slamming my head on the low-hanging beams. Eventually, I managed to find the box labeled 'Mom's stuff' and opened it up, finding the lacquered mahogany box that my mom stored all her jewelry in.

Honestly, I don't know why she kept so much gaudy crap. I suspected most of it came from my grandparents, but Aunt Cecilly doesn't talk about their mother and as far as my father was concerned, his family back in Japan could go fuck themselves, and I'd never bothered to find out why.

I held Cortana up in one hand while I sifted through the piles of jewelry, picking out a few pieces at her order. Why she wanted those pieces…well, she tried to explain, but I understood… _none_ of it. The technology is interesting, but fuck if it isn't incomprehensible to someone who hasn't even graduated.

Eventually, I had the right pieces and was free to close the box, put it away and let myself forget about all the crap up there we'd have to go through when we moved. Setting my loot on my desk, I went to pull on my jacket and discovered another problem I'd overlooked: for some reason, the clothes I'm wearing stretch to fit my proportions, but that leaves me with no other clothes, including my jacket and shoes. I don't think it's a problem when I'm turning into characters around my size, but the Chief is _not_ my size.

Borrowing my dad's old sandals worked for footwear, but I had to go out with just my shirt on. Cortana complained playfully about having to stay in my pocket, but there was one other place…the back of my head. That would be safer overall, if completely out of place. I slotted her in, shivered at the sensation of ice water pouring in my skull and pulled on a beanie I'd never used before that moment.

My disguise of a seven-foot tall very muscular man wearing sandals, a short-sleeved shirt and a beanie in the middle of Fall complete, I headed outside. It being Fall, there weren't that many people out and about, and the few that were did their best to ignore me or crossed the street. Being intimidating was a nice feeling, but I had to hurry or someone might've called the cops. I had some favors backlogged with the PRT, but I think getting arrested would've pushed it.

My steps slowed as I approached the recycling yard. It wasn't the middle of the day anymore, the sun had disappeared over the horizon and I walked home feeling an ease I hadn't in almost a year. And then, hands closed over my mouth, ripping away my belongings, lifting and throwing me in a container like they were disposing of a bag of trash.

And then the lock clicked, sealing my fate.

"Saul?" Cortana's voice cracked through the vision like lightning, bringing my mind back to the present. "You still in here?"

"Yeah," my throat was dry and my voice cracked, but I felt immensely better, "Just…having a flashback."

"We can do this later, you know," she said softly, understandingly.

"No," I replied firmly. "I can't let it dictate my life." That said, I crouched and jumped over the fence. Turns out, without the half-ton of armor, Chief can _jump_. I cleared the fence easily and landed with a crunch of gravel. Distant machinery whined and thumped, so I was free to creep around the stacked metal containers, heading for one that was still open.

Inside, computers, microwaves, phones and various other machines were stacked haphazardly. Cortana directed me to take smartphones, cracking them open and taking most of the circuitry inside along with the cases that weren't completely broken. I pulled a microwave apart and a broken Playstation, and all together it was a rather lumpy handful. That was apparently enough, so I left the lot behind and jumped the fence again.

At home, I cleaned my desk and laid my ill-gotten gains out over a thick sheet of paper, yanking Cortana and summoning the armor back at her direction. "What are going to do in the armor?" I asked, sealing the helmet and slotting her in.

"Well, the armor can lock up in emergencies, but the subsystem's malleable. So, while you were gathering the pieces, I wrote a program that should allow me to puppet the suit by causing micro-locks," she explained, as if it was the simplest thing in the world. "I _do_ need your nervous system for the fine controls, so…can I borrow it for like, an hour or two?"

I shrugged carelessly. "Sure, go ahead. I warn you, though, I might fall asleep. I'm oddly tired."

I could _feel_ her shrug, somehow. "I can work with that. I hope you don't drool."

I wasn't worried about drooling, more about mumbling in my sleep because I'd definitely be dreaming about her. Cortana started droning on about the extremely complicated technical details which might as well have been Klingon for all I understood, and I was out like a light in minutes.

…

I woke with a start and a crack as my stiff back protested my falling asleep standing up, and I didn't know what roused me until Cortana poked me in the face…with my own finger. "I'm up, I'm up! What'd I miss?"

"Only some of the most impressive jury-rigging and ad-libbing of advanced technologies the world has ever seen…or at least you," she replied, using my hand to point at a very sleek smartphone. It was six inches long and four wide, so more of a small tablet, really, with smooth lines and subtle curves, colored a shining black except in the center, where it lightened to a dark purple. "I couldn't make it any smaller, the technology just doesn't exist yet, but it's more mobile than a storage unit the size of an engine block."

"How'd you put this together?" I asked, gently lifting the chip to examine every surface of it. The back was black and featureless except for a camera lens.

"Well, I had to manipulate the energy shield into a scalpel so I could cut the gems, since I doubt you have any diamond-edged or laser cutting tools handy. Incidentally, I wouldn't lean too hard on your desk; the edge of the blade was only a few micrometers thick and I may have cut something important while I was messing around with the length." Visually, nothing appeared wrong with my desk, but I took her word for it. "Then I had to rub two of the scalpels together to create enough friction to create a soldering iron. It's not much, but it _should_ work for now. All it needs is a little jump."

I picked the chip up, cradling it in one massive gauntleted hand. "How do I jump it?" I asked curiously, wondering if I'd need to get some jumper cables and pop the hood of my aunt's car.

"I need you to take it to a power plant; there, we'll need to hook into the central power grid and at the stroke of midnight, channel all the power the plant can generate into the chip for exactly 2.345379 seconds," she stated confidently.

"Uh…are you making that up?" I said a bit nervously. For all I knew, she could be telling the truth, in which case my day had gotten a _lot_ more complicated.

"I am, actually!" Cortana answered cheerfully and I resisted the urge to face-palm as she chuckled. "I can tap into the micro-fusion generator powering the armor's systems to give it a jump-start; hold on a second."

The energy shield popped with a static crackle as an alarm blared inside the suit, the HUD flashing red as the bar representing the shield's power blinked frantically. As I watched, the bar refilled with a pleasant hum and the chip's screen lit up. "Why does the chip have a screen?"

"Because it also acts as a phone," she said simply. "Alright, yank me and let's find out if this'll work."

I removed her chip from my head, setting it and the phone down next to each other on the desk. The crystalline center flickered as her lavender avatar appeared and stepped over to the phone, kneeling down by its side and placing a hand on the purple center. Her form blinked and stuttered as the screen rapidly flashed a kaleidoscope of colors before it spasmed and shut off with a loud snap.

"Dammit!" Cortana stomped her foot, glaring down at the inert phone angrily before sighing. "I guess it was too much to ask for this to go right. But, hey, at least you got the most advanced phone on the planet out of the deal."

I scowled, dismissing the armor and plopping down in my chair, pulling laptop in front of me. "I don't want a phone, I want a _friend_ ," I muttered rebelliously, opening up the Abyssal Auction website. "I'll look at the price for a real version of your chip, give myself a number that I can start saving towards. Maybe I could sell some old jewelry?"

Cortana's avatar sat down next to my laptop, frowning grumpily. "You wouldn't have to if I got the stupid thing to work," she grunted, looking up at the screen as I typed my query in the search bar.

"Oh hey, there's one that only costs five hundred dollars!" My excitement spiked as I saw the number.

"It's says 'replica,'" she pointed out and my excitement flatlined. "Who would want to wear a replica of a highly-advanced chip as a necklace, anyway?"

I added 'real' to the search and hit enter, my eyes finding an entry that I clicked on, saw the price, and went pale. "…Dear god, I don't think that much money even _exists._ "

"Maybe if you mined half the moon for resources," Cortana said faintly, sighing deeply. "We tried, at least. I'm sorry it didn't work out, but…nope, I can't think of a brightside."

I went stiff as realization struck and that time, I _did_ facepalm. "I am so stupid," I murmured, laughing in relief. "I can't believe I _forgot_!"

"Forgot about what?" The lavender AI asked curiously.

"I have a voucher!" I announced, jabbing a finger at the screen. "One free item, any price! This is _perfect!_ "

"Huh," she said aloud, cocking a head in thought. "That _is_ handy…but maybe you should think long term. If it's one free item, any price, then maybe you should save it for something really good, like a starship or something."

The speakers let out a joyous _ding!_ as I bought the chip and confirmed that I wanted to use my voucher. "To put it bluntly, _fuck that!_ You're worth more than a _fleet_ of starships, Cortana. I honestly can't see any better use for that coupon than making sure you can stay around." Thinking back, that was incredibly selfish of me, buying something that expensive with something that valuable. But I'm a hero, right? I can be selfish a few times.

"I wish you gave it more thought," Cortana sighed, before giving me a small smile. "But thank you. Flattery will get you everywhere." She peered at the screen searchingly. "I wonder how long it'll take to be delivered? Not to mention _how_."

Both questions were answered quickly as the screen of my laptop deformed, stretching back into an infinite swirling void that spat out a gift-wrapped box directly at my face. Tearing open the box revealed an inert copy of her chip, helpfully paired with an instruction pamphlet on transferring synthetic consciousness across mediums.

I laid the new chip out on the desk, barely able to contain my excitement as Cortana walked over to it and laid a hand on on the surface. The original flickered and went dark as the new one lit up with the familiar purple glow, her avatar reappearing with a luxurious stretch that made my thoughts go in very bad directions.

"It's so roomy in here!" She enthused, sighing happily as her data streams flowed with renewed energy. "I never realized how cluttered my thoughts were getting!"

Loathe as I was to bring the mood down, I had to point something out. "We still need to find out if this works or not," I cautioned even though I was unable to contain a smile. "Maybe leave a message for yourself in case it doesn't? That way we won't have to go through the whole conversation again."

Cortana rolled her shoulders, stretching her neck before nodding. "All right, hit me," she ordered, closing her eyes.

I did the same, licking my lips nervously as I announced, "Quit Game: Halo 3." Feeling myself suddenly shorter and a lot less muscular, I cracked open an eye and peered at the only chip on the desk, my heart sinking as I found it dark and inert. Slumping into my hands, I resisted the urge to cry even as it pounded from behind my eyes. I was so close, _so close_ to finally having someone I could _really_ talk to…

"Surprise!"

I jumped with a startled shriek, tumbling to the floor. I scrambled back up and Cortana was there, standing atop the glowing chip with a mischievous smile on her face. "It…it worked?"

"Yup! I didn't feel a thing!" She announced happily, smiling widely. "Seems like you're stuck with me after all."

"Seems so," I chuckled, sighing my fears away before a thought occurred. "How am I supposed to carry you around? You're not exactly…"

"Subtle?" Cortana finished knowingly. "I have an idea about that, actually…"

…

Her idea turned out to be resummoning the armor and taking control again, this time integrating her chip into the phone, though not to the point where I couldn't remove her if necessary. With that in place, there was some room for her to add in a few defences; a phone that nice-looking would definitely get stolen if I wasn't careful and fuck me if I was letting anyone take her away. She added a shock function, so that if someone other than me tried to handle the phone, they'd get a few thousand volts and a car alarm in their ear.

I introduced her at dinner that night, and Aunt Cecilly loved her immediately. I think it's because they're a lot alike, despite the massive differences. They both want to help people and have no patience for idiots.

The Thanksgiving we had was a bit of blowout, a kind of swan-song for our last holiday in Seattle. We had a nice fat turkey with stuffing, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes and green bean casserole, which ended up being lunch and dinner for a week afterwards we had so much left over.

And things were going well on the Cape front, too. My transfer to Brockton Bay had gone through, we had a first-class flight scheduled for the twenty-eighth of November and the movers would be here and gone within a couple of days. We'd spend the last night in a hotel before packing our bags and leaving; but before that happened, my Aunt and I had an important conversation late one night, while we were drinking hot tea on the couch.

Cortana had taken to spending her nights on the internet, either researching everything there was to know about capes, our new home, or completely kicking ass in online games. And possibly playing the stock market like a fiddle, she was very coy about making money somehow.

Her research into Brockton Bay had come up with something that wasn't all that surprising: not to put too fine a point on it, Brockton Bay was a shithole. There was a gang of neo-Nazis, an Asian-centric gang called Ab or something, drug-dealers, mercenaries and smaller gangs, not to mention the fact that the villainous capes outnumbered the heroes by an unsettling margin.

It was a giant pile of fermenting manure, just waiting for a carelessly discarded cigarette so that it could explode and get shit everywhere.

It should've been discouraging. _Should've,_ but wasn't. If anything it made me want to go there even more. Here was a city in desperate need of heroes, despite the amount already based there. With my powers…I can do some crazy shit. But I can also do a lot of good, and Brockton Bay needed a hearty dose of good.

That's the thing about manure. You can turn it into a bomb…or you can turn it into a lush, fruit-bearing field. All it needs is an almost suicidal amount of effort and so much determination it could be classed as insanity.

I knew that, and my aunt knew that. But, I wanted to make _absolutely_ sure we were on the same page when it came to moving.

"So…Brockton Bay sucks," I was never very subtle.

"Yeah," she said bluntly, sipping her chamomile. "My personal hero residing there aside…it's a fucking terrible place."

"Language," I chided jokingly.

"English!" Aunt Cecilly rejoined, chuckling. "But seriously, it's worse than here. I know we should look for another place, but…there's just _so much_ we can do, you know?" She asked a bit desperately. "There are so many people in need of a helping hand, for legal matters and others. I could help a lot of people…does that make me a bad person?"

"That you're taking us to a place so low the only way to go is up because you desperately want to help people?" I questioned dryly, taking a deep drink of my chai rooibos. "I'm a bit biased, though, since that's exactly what I'm thinking."

Auntie gave me a confused, astonished and proud look; it wasn't a pretty expression. "Really?" She asked aloud, mostly to herself. "I've been kinda beating myself up over this for a little bit, hoping you'd understand eventually…guess I kinda underestimated you, huh?"

I shrugged. "A lot has happened in the last month," I muttered, fidgeting with my teacup. "It put a lot of things in perspective…what happened to me…I don't want it to happen to anyone else. If I can stop that from happening to _one_ person, the therapy, the-the nightmares…they'll be worth it."

"Oh sweetie," Aunt Cecilly murmured, taking my cup from my hands and pulling me into a tight hug. "You don't _have_ to be a hero, not if you don't want to. Doing something only because you feel obligated to do it is why I've never been married. I'd be a massive hypocrite to demand the opposite from you."

"I _do_ , though," I whispered, nuzzling her shoulder. "Not just because I want to help…but because I'm tired of being ignored, of passed over and fading into the background. I know…I know some of that was my fault in school. I never made the effort to make friends or stand out…but now I can. The second one, anyway."

She kissed the top of my head, her arms tight around me. "I'm proud of you, you know," she sighed, her hands warm and comforting on my back. "I know your parents would be, too."

I didn't mean to scoff in disbelief, at least not aloud, but the sound escaped anyway. Aunt Cecilly sighed sadly and simply threaded her fingers through my hair, allowing the conversation to die.

…

While I was fanboying over Cortana and preparing to move, the PRT hadn't been quiet. Harper's actions were widely publicized, though in such a way that they actually benefited somewhat. They claimed that a brand-new Ward (me) had broken the case wide open, but that I wished to remain anonymous in case any of Harper's allies wanted a shot at me.

Frankly, it was such bullshit that I'm astonished anyone actually believed it (especially the part where Harper had _allies_ ), but if it meant getting justice for myself, Henry and all the other people he'd fucked with, I'd smile and nod. I think the Cape community knew the truth and all agreed to keep it quiet. Maybe, I didn't know any actual heroes then.

It probably makes me an asshole, thinking of Harper in the Birdcage and smiling, but I really don't care.

The whole thing with him trying to straight-up murder me was kinda glossed over, what with a teenaged Ward purposefully Mastering an entire school, and while it did irritate me, again, as long as he was getting punished it didn't matter.

Eventually, though, our time in Seattle came to an end. Aunt Cecilly handed the keys to the movers and we took a cab to the hotel, one of the fancier ones even. With her selling the house and car, she had a nice infusion of cash into her account, so she sprung for a fancy room and bought a new car online, which would be waiting for us at the airport in Brockton Bay, which she would drive to our new house in one of the nicer neighborhoods.

Honestly, I didn't care where we were living as long as I got to spend more time with Auntie. I didn't realize how much I missed the past years of living together, but spending a few months with her constantly around made it blatantly obvious just how cold the house had gotten.

At the hotel, I found myself doing something I hadn't in a long time: Cuddling with Aunt Cecilly. I woke up the morning of our departure playing the small spoon to her big one, and it was honestly some of the best sleep I'd had in weeks. Having Cortana around as both a friend and someone to discuss my powers and sometimes as a night-light, was something I'd be forever grateful for.

I'm also sure I caught her singing to me while I slept once, but I never found out for sure.

At the airport, the only people to see us off were Henry and Mrs. Delgado. Aunt Cecilly had already said her goodbyes to her coworkers and the only people I would miss were coming with me, but I appreciated the thought.

Mrs. Delgado gave me a massive hug and despite using my Fallout 3 character, it _still_ popped my spine. It might've been something to do with someone else's mother, but I don't remember my mom ever hugging me like that. Along with the hug, she gave me a loud kiss on the cheek.

"You are a good boy," she said tearfully. "And I know you will grow into a good man. If you ever need anything, I'll help however I can."

I don't know how she expected to help, but it was nice idea.

Mrs. Delgado moved on to crack my aunt's back while I looked to Henry. He wasn't quite as pale and the bags under his eyes had lightened, but he still had a long way to go before he was anywhere close to normal again.

He offered me a hand and I took it, shaking firmly. "I, uh…I just want to thank you, man," he said embarrassedly. "I know I was a real bastard to you for a long time, but even then you still helped me. I…I won't forget that, man. Even if we never see each other again, even if you go crazy and take over a city or something, you'll still be a hero to me."

That made me feel immensely guilty. I hadn't chosen Henry because I wanted to help him, I'd chosen Henry because I had an in with him, and a way to break Harper's actions open. He didn't need to know that, though.

"I appreciate that, man," I nodded, giving him one final shake before stepping back. "We're more than the actions we take, you know? Don't let the past stop you from having a bright future, alright?"

Henry sighed harshly and nodded, his eyes firm. "I'll try, man. Have fun being a cape, yeah?"

I shrugged. "Hopefully." Aunt Cecilly took my arm and we walked towards the distant gate, waving to the distant Delgados before getting folded into the crowd.

Getting to the airplane was annoying as all hell, but eventually we got on the plane and went right to the front. First class was, like, stupidly nice. The chairs were made of soft leather, there was plenty of leg space, outlets for charging phones and the like, with complimentary pillows, headphones and food. They even had screens on the back of the seats so you could watch movies during the flight.

The flight from Washington on the West Coast to New Hampshire on the East Coast would take about ten hours, with stop-ins and transfers in Nebraska and Chicago before even getting to the time zone, so I had a lot of time to think.

Also, talk to Cortana and play games. There was a USB port in the laptop, which apparently my cord, still weird to say, could fit in. I tested it out and it turns out my cord changes to interface with any screen; so with my TV it was an HDMI, with the older model in the living room it became a the tri-color red-white-yellow setup and with computers, it became a USB.

I guess that made me the most advanced video game console on the planet…if the whole 'superpowers' thing didn't top it.

So, while we spent most of the day on a plane, I cradled my phone to my ear and pretended I was talking to someone while I tapped away at my keyboard. "It's a problem, I know, but I think I know how to solve it," I replied to her question.

"Is it a trait?" She asked dryly. "You know you can't rely on those for everything, right? You only have two you can switch out."

Her question was 'do you realize most games are about killing things?' I did, in fact. It was a massive problem, but one that could be solved, either with finding games with non-lethal abilities, or finding a trait that made lethal, non-lethal. Either of those, or I was going to be _so_ limited in my ability to be a hero.

Shooting people until they die is generally a bad way to be heroic. Unless it's Call of Duty.

I sighed, pausing my game and tabbing out to open the Abyssal Auction. "Alright, so I should look for a game that has non-lethal combat."

"And a method of getting around quickly that isn't a car," Cortana added. "You need to have a well-rounded trio of power sets to call on while you're patrolling, and switching out games takes too long. With Halo you have the Chief's armor, strength and durability, plus he's rather fast. That can be your Brute game. With Fallout, you have the Stealth Suit and Charisma, so that can be your Master/Stranger game. Though, I don't think it's the best fit, but let's focus on the third one for now."

"Alright, so games with non-lethal combat, enhanced parkour and speed," I mused aloud, typing them into the search bar. The first game that came up was Prototype and its sequel. "Oh hey, Prototype. I already have that one."

"That's the game where the protagonist is a walking virus, right?" _My_ AI companion pointed out flatly. "Also, the character is so dense he cracks the pavement when he runs, right? That's constant property damage right there."

"Yeah, but Alex is so powerful," I _didn't_ whine, "But you have a point. I'll keep it as an 'in case of emergency' game. Next one is…InFamous? Ah, a superhero game. The guy can absorb and manipulate electricity, climb buildings and skate on power lines. Alright, I'll admit that sounds completely badass and handy in a city setting. And there's a sequel, too, which means it's either a lot better or a lot worse than the first."

"There's a second sequel, with a trailer even," she said interestedly. "Take a look at that."

I felt my eyes widening as we watched the protagonist dash around by turning into smoke, speed up the side of buildings leaving neon after-images, launch himself high into the air and bolt across the sky on hard-light wings. "Oh dear god. That is _so. Fucking. Rad,_ " I murmured in awe. "I'm going to abuse _the shit_ out of my powers, I don't give a fuck."

"Language," my aunt murmured in her sleep.

"How much does it cost? I want this, like, now," I scrolled down and sighed at the price tag. "A hundred bucks…that's better than your chip, but I don't have that kind of cash."

Cortana chuckled softly, and I could hear the smile. "Oh really? Check your bank account." I had no idea how to do that, because I'd never had a bank account before, unless you count a trust from my parents I couldn't touch. "You have a bank account now, by the way."

I followed her directions and found myself staring at the number in the 'available' column. "Two thousand…where'd you get that much money? And how'd you _get_ money in the first place?"

"As a budding hero, do you _really_ want to know?" she replied teasingly, "And I might have, kinda, snuck a little bit out of your trust, sorry. I put it all back, with some interest, don't worry."

I admit, Cortana stealing money from me was annoying, but she gave me more so I didn't really care. "Just tell me next time, okay?" I sighed, tabbing back to the Abyssal Auction and buying InFamous: Second Son. "Thank you, though."

"No problem. We're in this together, right?" She asked warmly, and I felt my heart pound a little. Damn my attraction to smart, snarky ladies.

"Yeah." My screen deformed and spat out a gift-wrapped copy of InFamous that I managed to catch before it clattered to the floor. Ripping it open, I peered around to make sure no one was watching and held my shirt out as I pressed the button and my disc tray slid out. I replaced BioShock with InFamous and closed it, pausing as a thought struck. All my games were Xbox games. The game in me when I triggered was an Xbox game. What if I couldn't use Playstation games?

There was only one way to find out. "Access Game: InFamous: Second Son." My vision rippled and the HUD changed, replaced with blank sections that would hold the power bar and super meter. Good, my bullshit powers were still bullshit. The start screen appeared on my laptop and I settled in to my stupidly comfortable seat to play.

…

It _is_ possible to get tired of playing games. After we transferred to the next flight in Nebraska, I pulled out my smart AI-phone and opened up the dossiers the PRT had sent me on the Wards in Brockton Bay. It didn't contain their civilian names, but it did tell me where they went to school, and that's where I found something that set off my alarm bells.

Shadow Stalker, a former vigilante known for her violent methods, went to a school called Winslow, while all the other Wards went to a place called Arcadia. Winslow, by all accords, was worse than Olympic Valley had been before Raymond Harper had shown up, with drug deals and gang recruitment and the occasional gang-related violence incident, given that two major gangs recruited out of there.

Arcadia, on the other hand, was a state-of-the-art campus with Glory Girl and Panacea attending alongside most of the Wards.

But stop me if this sounds familiar: a cape with a shady history, all alone in a shitty school. If something similar to Harper wasn't happening there, I'd eat Halo.

"Son of a bitch," I muttered, opening my laptop and beginning to type a letter to the Director of the Brockton Bay branch of the Protectorate. In it, I outlined my concerns about the situation and volunteered my services in finding out if shit was going down. Yeah, I'd be giving up a pretty kick-ass school for a bit, but _fuck_ my education if someone else is suffering because some _little bitch_ wanted to exert some petty _fucking_ authority on people who can't fight back. "Cortana, can you check this over for me?"

The phone flickered in my pocket, my screen blinking in reply. "Make sure to mention how much they owe you for exposing Novacaine, but subtly…actually, let me do that, subtlety isn't really your thing," she replied, sections of email erasing before getting filled in. "There, that should do it. The Director for Brockton Bay is Emily Piggot, and she's well-known to be suspicious of capes, even the ones working with her. If I'm wrong, and I rarely am, she should be on board with trying to catch Shadow Stalker. Actually, you might not have to bring up the part where they owe you, hold on."

She edited the email again, refining it down to a simple but strong message, then sent it off. "Thanks, Cortana. Do you think you could tutor me in writing messages like that? I'm not very good at it."

"Sure thing," she replied happily, typing a smiley emoticon on my laptop. "You should catch a nap if you aren't going to play. Heroes need their rest; even junior ones."

She wasn't wrong.

…

The rest of the trip was rather boring, all told. The only excitement came when we were approaching Brockton Bay, circling the airport when my aunt suddenly tugged on my sleeve, wordlessly pointing at the window. I peered over her shoulder and felt my eyes go wide.

Flying along outside of the plane, her back towards the ground, her hands behind her head like she was sunbathing by the pool (an image I'd store in that dark part of my brain) was Glory Girl, blonde hair held away from her smiling face by a tiara. She turned her head and looked at us, giving a jaunty wink and a salute.

Numbly, my aunt and I waved at her before another familiar figure flew in beside her, nudging her and jerking her head down meaningfully. The purple starburst on the chest plus the tiara, again, let us know it was Lady Photon rebuking her niece.

With a pout, Glory Girl dived below the clouds and the leader of New Wave gave us a sheepish 'sorry folks' wave before disappearing.

I traded incredulous looks with my aunt, allowing a giddy smile to cross my lips. "Alright, this place just got a hundred percent more awesome." A passing flight attendant giggled as she touched a button, turning on the seat-belt lights.

The descent was nice and calm, and we found our new car without trouble. It was simple tan sedan that came out about a year ago, with good MPG, whatever that means. It even had that new-car smell when we slipped inside and buckled up; and damn well it should've, it was newly-bought.

Even though I'd seen Brockton Bay from the sky and online, seeing it in person cemented my opinion. To be honest, it reminded me of a more stressed Seattle, except with a ship graveyard and a boardwalk with a beach. And an oil rig out in the Bay.

It was bad, but it _definitely_ had potential.

Traffic was pretty good, despite it being a weekend. It probably had something to do with that fact that it was the middle of winter. We arrived at our new house within thirty minutes, which was situated in one of the more high-end neighborhoods, but not the rich 'burbs with the fences. Most domiciles had an SUV or a sedan parked by the garage, a few even had kiddie toys scattered around the lawn.

Our house was a tad smaller, with only two bedrooms and an office, plus one and half baths. Not quite as big as the old house, but that was kind of the point; just me and my aunt living there made it feel more like a mausoleum than a home; a smaller place was perfect. Apparently it used to have three rooms, but the previous owner knocked a wall down and expanded the master. And I knew that because my aunt had called it a selling point.

Stepping inside, we found the couch set up across from the TV along with the shelves and the bookcase, but it was all empty, with most of the boxes scattered around the living room. "Why don't we…" Aunt Cecilly yawned and stretched, smacking her lips, "Grab a quick nap before we start seriously unpacking? I'll order a pizza and we can go through all this crap over a few slices?"

"Sounds good," I agreed, failing to suppress my own yawn.

"I call the couch!"

…

I woke up just as the sun was dipping below the horizon to the smell of pizza and the opening of boxes, stepping out into the living room to find my aunt sitting at the coffee table with open box at her feet and half a slice hanging from her mouth. "Hey sweetie," she mumbled around a mouthful of pizza. "I was just going through your parent's stuff."

"Did you finally figure out what you're gonna do with all the jewelry?" I asked, taking a slice of pineapple and Canadian Bacon and taking a bite, opening a box labeled 'Dad's stuff.' Inside was a bunch of suits and jackets, along with a few anime tapes and manga.

"I'll keep the more nostalgic pieces and sell the rest," Aunt Cecilly announced, sifting through the box boredly. "I don't need _that_ much jewelry, I don't know why Angela needed all these pieces, either. Some of these look like the cheap costume crap you can buy at a Walmart."

I hummed in agreement, shifting aside the suits to expose an old Nintendo and a few cartridges, along with a long plastic box. Frowning in confusion, I reached inside and pulled it out, resting it on my lap as I opened it. Inside were a pair of Power Gloves, one labeled 'Angela,' the other labeled 'Ken.' I felt tears spring to my eyes as I picked up my dad's left-handed glove, running my fingers over my mom's right-handed one.

…What a couple of complete fucking nerds. Who the hell even bought a Power Glove, let alone a _set_?

As I twisted the glove around, an idea began to percolate in the back of my mind, designs forming front of my eyes. "Hey, Cortana? Do you have the number of the Tinker in the Wards, Kid Win?"

"Yeah, I do. Why?"

…

"Are…are you sure?" Kid Win asked in disbelief, " _That's_ what you want to go with?"

" _Yeah,"_ Saul answered simply. " _Is it something you can do, or should I be going through…some kind of requisition process? I, uh, I haven't been a Ward for… well, at all, so I don't actually know…a lot. Uh. Sorry."_

"Nah, it's fine, always glad to help," the teenaged Ward said, scratching side of head above his visor. "So, do you want to use the actual gloves or like, replicas?"

" _Replicas, please, these things are old, they'd probably tear if I wore them,"_ the newest Ward replied with a faint chuckle. " _I, uh, appreciate you, you know, answering my call. Haven't even met in person and I'm already asking for favors. Fantastic."_

"It's fine, you'll just owe me a favor later on," Kid waved him off. "Alright, I think that's everything. It should be ready by next week…should be. I'll try my best, but no promises."

" _I_ did _kinda spring it on you,"_ Saul shrugged. " _Thanks, again. Uh, have a good Christmas?"_

Kid Win blinked. "Uh, dude? Christmas is in, like, three weeks. We'll meet up before then but, yeah, you too."

There was an awkward silence, broken by a quiet shuffling. " _I'm just…gonna…hang up,"_ Saul muttered embarrassedly. " _Alright, bye."_

The Tinker snorted as the line closed, letting out a quiet chuckle. "Well, this is gonna be _fun._ "

…

It took a few days, but we were eventually sorted out and settled in. In the mornings, Aunt Cecilly would study up on local cases (also known as fangirling over Brandish) while waiting for replies to her resumé. I would get tutoring from Cortana on the local capes (also known as fanboying over…pretty much all of them), and practicing quickly switching between games. Then we'd go out for lunch at a different place, trying out all sorts of food and finding the differences in Chinese food from Seattle and Chinese food from Brockton Bay. There was a pretty big difference, turns out. There was a lot less teriyaki, more's the pity.

After about a week, a beaten van pulled up and disgorged a a muscular man in jeans and a jacket, who knocked on my door. I answered and found myself using the Chief's instincts to scan the man. He carried himself like a man trying not to carry himself like a soldier and looked like he felt naked not wearing armor, with a subtle lump under his left arm. "Saul Dewitt?" He asked softly.

"That's me," I answered calmly. "Can I help you?"

He held up a badge that fit PRT standards. "Joseph Tanden, I'm here to escort you and your aunt to the Rig," He said quietly.

"Alright, let me grab my aunt," I replied, shutting the door. "Cortana, did you get a good enough look?"

"Yup, scanning now," she responded cheerily. "Hm, let me see…Joseph Tanden, a history of minor alcoholism, served in the Army six years but otherwise, nothing else. Seems legitimate."

"Good enough for me," I replied, loading InFamous, Fallout and Halo into my disc tray. "Do you want me to leave you here? It'd be kinda hard to explain having such an advanced phone."

Cortana chuckled lightly. "Oh, you don't need to worry about that. As far a they're concerned, a Tinker in Seattle, Blackout, gave it to you during one of his episodes because he felt responsible for Novacaine."

"Blackout…the guy with narcolepsy and sleep-tinkering?"

"That's the one. As far he knows, it's true."

I grinned, pulling on a sweater. "Good, I didn't want to leave you behind. Aunt Cecilly! PRT's here!"

"Coming!" She called, jogging down the hallway while pulling her dark blonde hair into a simple bun. Tugging on her jacket, she briefly modeled by our shoes. "How do I look?"

"Smokin,'" I replied instantly.

"Bitchin,'" she smiled, zipping up her olive jacket.

"Language!"

"English."

Mr. Tanden was waiting awkwardly by the door, giving us not-quite-a-smile before he lead us to the van. The inside was rather roomy and comfortable as far as vans go, being just the three of us plus a driver. Both PRT guys sat up front while we took the back, sitting in silence while they drove us to the ferry terminal and pulled into a parking spot aboard the ship. "Would you like anything from the galley?" The driver, a younger woman with a burn scar on her cheek asked, twisting around in the seat to look at us.

My Aunt shook her head, smiling politely. "No, thank you."

The driver left and returned ten minutes later with a cup of coffee she passed to Tanden while she downed what smelled like tea, along with an oatmeal cookie. A bit later, she started the engine and drove us onto the Rig, driving into a covered parking lot. "Here you are," she nodded, pressing a button that opened the back doors. "Thanks for choosing the PRT Taxi service."

I chuckled quietly and gave her a wave as Tanden led us to a security checkpoint, where they ran my phone and wallet under a sensor, handing it back when nothing happened before doing the same to my aunt. Then we were taken on possibly the most advanced elevator I'd ever seen, all shining metal with doors that opened in segments, one at a time. "Huh," my aunt muttered. "Fancy."

The ride up was smooth, with barely any inertia or evidence that we were moving at a speed, besides the blinking light and the window looking out over the Bay. We arrived at the right floor and Mr. PRT made us follow him into a sealed room, leaving us with a nod and an open door, which was filled a minute later by two people.

The first was a woman with steel gray eyes and blonde hair, built like a brick house and twice as solid, but not fat. She seemed to be made out of concrete, mortared with vinegar and blood.

The other was a familiar figure in power armor, the only part of his face visible being his bearded chin. Armsmaster. You know, I still don't understand why he calls himself that, because he isn't a Master of Arms. He could whip some ass with his awesome halberd and he had tech for days, but that was it. Besides the Tinkering.

"Afternoon," the solid woman greeted us with a short nod, taking a seat across from me. "I'm Director Emily Piggot. I understand you've already signed the permission forms and waivers in Seattle, Ms. Whittaker, but I'd like to hear it myself. You do understand that your nephew, Saul M. Dewitt, will be involved in combat with drug dealers, gangs and villainous capes, yes?"

"I am aware and support his decision to be a hero," Aunt Cecilly replied levelly.

Director Piggot flashed what might've been a microscopic smile. "Very good." Armsmaster handed her a file, which she passed across the table to my aunt. "This is a typical NDA. I know you have legal experience, so I won't bother trying to explain something you already understand."

My aunt hummed and signed, initialed and dated, passing it back to the Director who signed, initialed and dated as a witness, passing it back to Armsmaster, who made it disappear somewhere in his armor.

"Now, I've heard from Director Peterson about your powers, Mr. Dewitt," her piercing gaze moved onto me, almost subconsciously making me grit my teeth nervously. "I would like a demonstration and an explanation for the record." That said, she pulled a recorder out of a pocket and set it on the table, switching it one. "This is Emily Piggot with prospective Ward S-076823J, with Armsmaster witnessing."

I swallowed thickly, wishing I had a glass of water. "Alright, I can summon the equipment of video game characters and use them with the same amount of skill the character can."

"Is your ability limited to just weapons or just armor?" Armsmaster asked gruffly. Not that he was being impatient, that's just what his voice sounds like.

I shook my head. "As long as I've played the game, I can summon anything that qualifies as equipment, sir," I said nervously. "I can show you."

I stood up from the table and backed away slightly, lifting my arm and tapping a made-up code on the invisible buttons. "What are you doing with your arm?" Director Piggot questioned.

I jumped. "Oh, uh, it helps me visualize what I want to summon if I tap a code in," I answered, hating the way my voice wavered. "My therapist says it's, uh, psycho…somatic, I think."

"Very well." Curiosity thus satisfied, she folded her hands and stared at me.

I finished tapping out the code and exhaled harshly, breathing deeply as I summoned the Chief's armor, whispering, "Access Game: Halo 3."

Suddenly I was seven feet tall and clad in worn green power armor, opening my eyes to see Armsmaster's lips had tightened suspiciously and the Director had narrowed her eyes. I felt the Chief's calm certainty wash over me and I snapped off a crisp salute. Reflexively she barked, "At ease," and I fell into parade rest. Minutely shaking herself, Director Piggot eyed me speculatively. "If you would demonstrate summoning weapons, please."

"Yes ma'am," I tapped my left arm twice before reaching over my shoulder, pulling the Assault Rifle that appeared in my hands in front of me.

"That's a gun," Armsmaster said aloud, his voice tinged with suspicion. "Are you intending to use firearms?"

"No sir," I replied calmly. "I don't intend to use firearms in the field. While most of the weapons I have access to in this game are firearms, there are a pair of melee weapons available." I reached behind me and holstered the Rifle, barely feeling it disappear as I reached down to the thigh holster and pulled an inactive energy sword, flicking my wrist as it snapped to life with a hiss of burning air. "Energy Sword."

I put that away then reached behind my back, this time bringing out a large, technologically advanced hammer about as long as Chief was tall. "Gravity Hammer."

"…I see," Piggot muttered, her lips twisting in what might've been a grimace. "Do you have another example?"

"Yes, ma'am, I've prepared three examples for today," I answered respectfully, dismissing the Gravity Hammer and bringing my arm up, tapping in another fake code as I whispered, "Acces Game: Fallout 3."

I was suddenly a foot shorter and _much_ less armored, wearing a tight, climate-controlled black suit, padded with kevlar and light armor plating on the wrists and feet up to the shins. Thin orange wires were taped to the surface, a Pip-boy on my arm, the orange visor partially covered by a shady-looking fedora.

"And what is this armor capable of?" Armsmaster asked, a tad more at ease when I was shorter than him.

Instead of speaking, I crouched, the refractive field activating after a second, bending the light around me until I was little more than a slight ripple in the air. "It can generate a refractive field, making me close to invisible." I stood, pulling the crossbow out of the my thigh holster. "I also have this. It fires darts coated in scorpion venom, capable of temporarily crippling limbs. It can be lethal, but only after eight or nine shots, and even then it would take a few minutes for the full effect."

The Director seemed a bit better dispositioned towards me after that, nodding in thought. "And the final example?"

I licked my lips nervously behind my visor. The last example would either impress them or scare the shit out of them when the full implications hit; I was just glad I'd saved that morning. I tapped the Pip-boy's screen, murmuring, "Access Game: InFamous: Second Son." I really needed to find a way to shorten the words needed to access my games.

The Chinese Stealth Suit disappeared, replaced by a pair of black sneakers with a yellow stripe, faded blue jeans, a white hoodie underneath a jean vest decorated with multiple buttons, a blue and white bird triumphantly spreading its wings on the back, and a red beanie. The sleeves were rolled up to reveal a Native American Tattoo on the left forearm, and a simple chain wrapped around the right.

"…And what does that do?" Piggot arched an eyebrow, unimpressed.

Wordlessly, I raised my hands and pushed on the power inside, my fingertips glowing with heat as smoke rolled off my arms. "I can absorb and manipulate smoke, neon, video and concrete," I said simply. No need to mention the whole 'power absorption' thing, since I doubt it would work on powers that use completely different rules.

"You're saying your power allows you to access _other_ powers?" Armsmaster said in disbelief.

"I can use their equipment with the same skill they can, and if the character has an item that allows them to use powers…" I patted the chain on my wrist meaningfully, very glad the game didn't exist here.

Piggot blinked, her eyes narrowed. "I see," a soft knock echoed from the door. "I would like a more in-depth demonstration, but for now I'd like to introduce you to the rest of the Wards."

I dismissed Delsin's stuff with a tap on the arm, feeling a new nervousness creep up my spine. "Does that mean…I'm officially a Ward?" I resisted the urge to wring my hands.

The corner of her lips twitched. "It does. Welcome to the Wards, Saul Dewitt," she said officially, standing from the table. She didn't shake my hand or anything like that, but she nodded. Which was nice.

Armsmaster held the door open for her, an armored and masked PRT guard coming inside with a box he set on the table. "Kid Win finished your request," the Tinker explained shortly, "Welcome to Wards."

As the door closed behind them, I let out an explosive sigh, feeling the weight lifting off of my shoulders. My Aunt was up, hugging me tightly before I knew it. "You did well," she said hurriedly, feeling my shaking. "I'm proud of you, sweetie."

"Thanks, Aunt Cecilly," I murmured, embracing her. "Thanks for being here."

"Of course," she said simply, stepping back with a smile. "Alright, I'll wait in the garage, since I'm your guardian and I don't want to get in your way while you make friends with the new kids. Don't be shy, okay?"

I sighed. "I won't, Aunt Cecilly," I muttered.

"Good boy!" She chirped, kissing my cheek. "See you in a bit!"

Then she left me alone with the box. Inside was just what I asked for.

…

"Does the new guy even have a cape name yet?" Shadow Stalker grumbled, leaning against a distant wall with her arms crossed.

"He literally _just_ joined, Stalker, give him a break," the brown-armored form of Clockblocker shot back. "And no, I don't mean arms. Or legs. Or balls."

The black-suited former vigilante grunted dispassionately, content to ignore everyone else and stew in her annoyance, while Aegis and Vista quietly chatted with Kid Win and Gallant. "I'm telling you, it looks stupid as hell," the younger Tinker told the others. "Is it a rule with capes that their first costume looks like bat chose it from a My Little Pony/Hot Topic convention?"

The other teens laughed quietly, though the knight-themed Gallant remained quiet and thoughtful, somewhat disturbed by the presence he knew to be the new Ward. He'd been the first to arrive in the room, stretching his senses into the next room, finding the stoic annoyance of Piggot next to the stoic suspicion of Armsmaster; across from them was a resigned but proud feeling, and next to them was a bundle of nervous hope.

Then, the nervous hope changed to cool military precision so fast Gallant thought he'd fallen asleep, while Piggot and Armsmaster both showed signs of smothered alarm and intrigue.

Then the cool military presence blinked out, replaced by smooth, quiet aura. And then _that_ had been replaced by with smirking confidence. Gallant had to restrain himself from bursting into the room when he felt the Director and the Tinker's alarm slowly replaced with a dawning sense of determination.

By the time he pulled himself out, the others had joined him in the room, followed by Piggot and Armsmaster. Now, they were waiting for the new cape.

Gallant felt the new Ward's rising confidence as he suited up for the first time, a smile tugging at his lips as the new guy psyched himself up in preparation to meet them.

Then, the door knob turned and Saul stepped inside.

His costume, in comparison to Gallant, Aegis and Clockblocker was lightly armored, with silver shin guards above light but strong shoes made for running, jumping and climbing, a kevlar vest covered in thin metal strips for flexibility and protection against knives. Underneath that, he wore a grey muscle shirt that exposed the muscle on his arms above the elbow, the lower part covered in fingerless gloves and silver armguards; curiously, there appeared to be video game controllers integrated into the guards on this forearms.

His mouth up to his nose was covered by a black cloth mask, his eyes hidden behind a matte black visor that also covered his ears, leaving a stretch of his forehead and his short, light brown hair exposed.

"…Hi," Saul said lamely, scratching the back of his neck, inadvertently bringing attention to the small symbols on the left side of his chest. A larger green power symbol above what looked like Morse code, but on closer inspection was revealed to be directions. _Up up down down left right left right B A_. "I'm uh…you can call me Game Master."

…

…

…

…

 **A/N: Hey look at that, I started a new story and I'm updating a few days later! Who recognizes** _ **that?**_ **And how much do you wanna bet on how long it's gonna last? I've got fifty on me writing half of chapter three before getting blocked and going back to another story. Maybe I'll start the next Story in the Hero Series? Maybe I'll finish the next chapter of the Life? Maybe I'll even update Dare To Wander, if you can imagine that! Or, Hoping beyond Hope, I'll fucking finish JotWE in the next century?**

 **Hell if I know. I will admit though, that writing at teenaged Saul who's not quietly confident or a violent badass is very interesting. Really, though, I'm flying by the seat of my pants here; an uncomfortable way to fly, but better than taking a train.**

 **Big thanks to NorthSouthGorem and Dairegh for all their help and the constant talking and distracting which, oddly enough, actually helped. The former is still the only other author, but…I've been hearing things about the latter. Maybe keep an eye on him, eh?**

 **Also thanks to the Boys on Xbox!**

 **I hope you enjoyed this chapter and if you did, make sure to follow and leave a review!**

 **Stay Awesome!**

 **~Soleneus**

 **P.S.: I loved hearing about your favorite games, so let's continue. Which games has the best traversal system? For me, it's Titanfall 2. First time I played, I kept missing jumps and dying** _ **very**_ **ignobly, but eventually it got to the point I can cross most of the maps without touching the ground! Which is not to say I'm good at the, y'know, shooting part…**

 **:(**

 **Stay Awesome Some More!**

 **~still Soleneus**


	3. Meet the Team and Tutorials, Pt 1

**Chapter 3**

…

 _ **Joined the Wards. +50 Exp.**_

The anxiety of facing down Director Piggot and Armsmaster had faded as they left, only to be replaced by the anxiety of meeting the other Wards. I'd talked to Kid Win over the phone and I was gonna keep a sharp eye on Shadow Stalker, but I'd only read about the others in their dossiers…and their PHO profiles.

Pulling my phone out, I typed a quick message to Cortana. _Any cameras?_

 _Two_ , she replied. _You did well, Saul. You're officially a junior hero, now._

 _Thanks, Cortana,_ I typed back. _Do you think I'm doing the right thing, keeping my true powers secret?_

 _Yup,_ was the immediate response. _The recording plus the cameras means that the whole interview is an official record. Any villains worth their salt would have ways to access such records, so by the time the PRT officially announces you, most of them will probably know what you can do._

 _Yeah, probably. The way they looked at me when I showed the smoke powers, though…I think they have an idea._ I shrugged and found my gaze falling on the dark box carrying my costume. _Thanks for being here, Cortana._

 _Where else would I be?_

I wouldn't feel any less anxious standing around, so I cracked open the box and my jaw fell. Not just because it was the first time I'd ever laid eyes on my costume, nor the dropped-anvil feeling of realization that _this was my superhero uniform holy shit this is really happening._ No. That would've been poetic.

The real reason I was…because it was _fucking_ _ugly_. The solid pink base wasn't too bad…kinda. But it was crisscrossed with neon yellow, green, red and orange with a few splashes of grey.

"…The fuck is this?" I'd asked for Urban Camouflage, not whatever this monstrosity of colors was called. It made me think of a unicorn that had thrown up Fruit Loops all over it. I scrubbed my thumb over the chest piece, feeling the paint give away slightly, and an idea struck. I made sure to tap on my arm and brought out Delsin's chain, focusing my power into my finger. It lit up, fluffy grey smoke and visible heat wafting off it.

I brought it to the paint and slowly wiped it across the metal, burning the garish mis-mash of colors off. Wiping my thumb over it revealed slightly smoky silver underneath. That was _much_ better.

Channeling power to my entire hand, I burned off wide swathes of paint, tapping it against the table and leaving small piles of ash on the surface. After a minute it was mostly clean, with a few spots in the crevices still hiding paint, but otherwise it was good. Thankfully Kid Win hadn't colored the pants, shirt and facemask, so they were still dark grey, but the arm and shin guards were covered in unicorn vomit.

They were smaller than the chest piece by a wide margin, so it took far less time to strip the paint off, and then I was ready to put it on. The last suit I'd ever wear.

…Unless I got a new one made.

I wished I hadn't asked if there were cameras, because stripping down in that room would've felt at least five times less awkward. As it was, it wasn't _that_ awkward because, well…I won't lie, I used a game with character creation to 'touch up' my features. Saints Row 2, actually. That game had, like, crazy amounts of customization, but I only did a few things.

I narrowed my nose just a little, made my lips a bit thicker and made my cheekbones just a tad more pronounced…and I also moved the fat slider down and the muscle slider up. I had a six-pack, is what I'm saying. Beyond making me feel better about my weight, think about it. Who ever heard of a chubby superhero? One who didn't rely on fat for their powers, anyway.

That's right, none. Sure, not _every_ cape had been handsome or built like a brick with an eight-pack or a couple of beach balls wrestling in a singlet, but they were at least in shape.

Plus, carrying heavy boxes was never so easy. Except when I was Chief.

The point is, as I pulled on the pants and buckled the belt, I felt my confidence rise seeing them fit. Pulling on the tight shirt only added to that. The shoes were light but durable, the carry-over from Delsin noting them to be perfect for running, jumping, climbing and all sorts of parkour. I buckled on the shin guards, making sure they were comfortably tight before doing the same to the arm guards, tapping the built-in buttons, jokingly typing in the Konami code.

…And then I remembered that I'd asked Kid Win to carve that into my chest plates, along with I thought was a fitting symbol: a power button. Luckily, my burning of the paint didn't warp the symbols, so I pulled the chest piece on and experimentally twisted left and right. It was nice and flexible, just like I'd wanted. It was basically a kevlar vest covered in metal strips to give it extra protection from knives, not that my face and arms wouldn't also be good targets, with enough room to fit in a ballistic plate if I didn't have a game that could protect me from bullets.

Not that there aren't many of those.

The final touch was a facemask that covered my chin to my nose, which would be a decent defense against gases, and a matte black visor that would hide my eyes and cover my ears, allowing me to talk to Command or whatever, listen to music, protect myself against flashbangs and look fuckin' sweet.

Looking at my reflection in the window, I could confidently state that, for the first time in my life, I cut an impressive and intimidating figure. Sure, there were bigger heroes, taller with more muscles and power armor, but _I_ thought I looked good. And, more to the point, I didn't look stupid.

And then I posed, making very manly grunts. "Ha! Ho! Yeah! Ready! For! Action!" I pounded my chest like I'd seen jocks and gorillas do, then stepped towards the door. I paused with my hand on the knob, before remembering that my other clothes were just lying around. I packed them into the box and stepped out, peering around and catching sight of the woman who'd driven us to the Rig. "Oh, hey!"

She looked at me, her eyes widening slightly. "Hey there. Looks like you made it, huh?" She asked rhetorically, putting her hands on her hips as she examined me. "Functional, protective but also flexible and not too flashy, either. All said, it's pretty good, kid. Did you need something?"

"Yeah, I was wondering if you were going to be driving my aunt and I back home," I replied sheepishly, feeling proud that my choice of gear was liked by that woman. For one, she was pretty in a rough-and-tumble kinda way, and she was first to see it.

"I'm driving, yeah," she nodded, her ponytail bobbing.

"Could you give these to my aunt?" I asked, holding the box out. "They're my clothes. I, uh, don't know where else to put them…"

"Your locker?" She suggested, arching an eyebrow in amusement.

"Oh. I have a locker?" I replied dumbly. "Oh, right. Uh. I kinda…don't want the other Wards to know my identity yet. Make it fun."

The woman huffed a chuckle, the burn scar on her cheek twisting slightly. "Alright, I'll take them down, I'm going that way. Maybe keep your aunt company." She took the box with grace, holding it under one arm while she held the other out. "I don't doubt we'll be seeing more of each other, so welcome to the team."

I shook her hand firmly. "Thanks, uh…Miss."

"Sarah," she answered, smiling slightly, "Sarah Hargrove. You should meet the team, you're keeping them waiting."

"Oh, right!" I licked my lips nervously, resisting the urge to wring my hands. "Uh, thanks. Sarah."

Sarah chuckled and left with a wave, leaving me at the door. The door leading to the room with all the other Brockton Bay Wards. Who I would now be working with. And in one case, stalking. Ironically.

The anxiety came back and I paused with my hand on the knob, my fingers shaking. I closed my eyes and inhaled sharply, calling on my time as the Chief. Cool, calm and confident. I was nearly crushed to death, I could meet my future teammates. They couldn't see my face, so there was no reason to be nervous.

Confidence established, I turned the knob and stepped inside, my confidence fleeing as every head turned to look at me. The silence built as they looked at me, and I resisted the urge to fidget, failing and reaching up to scratch the back of my suddenly itchy neck. "…Hi," I said lamely. "I'm, uh," I forgot I wasn't going to tell them my name yet. "You can call me Game Master."

I was supposed to talk with the Director about my cape name, but come on, Game Master works!

"Is that really what you're going with?" Shadow Stalker scoffed from her position of leaning against the wall, maintaining an air of rebellious aloofness.

"Well, I can summon equipment from video games and use it with the same skill as the character, usually at the highest level," I shot back, unwilling to take any shit from someone who seemed determined to be an asshole, "Game. Master. It works. At least my initials don't make 'SS.'"

"The _fuck's_ that supposed to mean?" Stalker barked, pushing off from the wall to get in my face. Her reaction only cemented my suspicion; it was that of a bully, confronted with someone who didn't immediately back down. I _hate_ bullies.

I didn't reply, only folding my arms and giving her a level stare. Her mask looked to be made of black metal, in the shape of a stern woman's face, the empty eyes meeting mine.

After a few seconds of silence, she scoffed and stepped around me, bumping her shoulder against mine. "Whatever. I'm going on patrol." The door slammed shut behind her.

I turned to Aegis, his eyes being the only thing visible through the gap in his helmet. "She does know it's the middle of the day, right?"

He shrugged his red armored shoulders. "It's the weekend," he said simply, holding out a hand, "Aegis, pleasure to meet you."

While I was shaking his hand, the tan-armored guy covered in clocks nudged Kid Win's shoulder. "Dude, I thought you said his costume was ugly," he muttered, loud enough for everyone to hear. "It sure doesn't _look_ like a bat chose it from a My Little Pony/Hot Topic convention."

"It did earlier!" the Tinker protested, his frowning mouth visible below the red visor. "What'd you do to it?"

"I burned that shit off," I replied simply, shrugging. "It looked like a unicorn ate too many flowers and threw up on it. I asked for urban camouflage, dude, not…whatever you'd call that. Everything else is perfect though."

"Have you seen all the graffiti around here?" Kid asked, offering a fist bump instead of handshake. "Nice to meet you in person, GM. Gotta say, you armor was interesting to work with. Not the armor part, but the controller parts."

I glanced down at the buttons, tapping a few experimentally. "Did you do something to them?" I asked suspiciously.

He shrugged, grinning. "No, but I wanted to." Clockblocker stepped around the red-suited Tinker, offering his own fist.

"What up, Game Master," he greeted, his featureless mask an odd incongruity to the easy humor in his voice. I raised my fist to bump his but paused, looking at the clock on the back of his hand, his power coming to mind.

"…Are you going to freeze me?" His dossier said he was a jokester, and the way he slumped minutely meant I was right.

"Aw, come on, do I seem like that kinda guy?"

"You call yourself 'Clockblocker,'" I pointed out dryly, lowering my hand.

Clockblocker threw his hands up. "Fine, fine! Just ignore tradition, why don't ya…"

"I've got someone waiting for me, so I'm fine with that." I turned to the shortest of the group, a blonde girl wearing a skirt with wavy lines of green and white, green armoring on her upper body and her legs. "Hi."

"Hey there," she replied easily, taking my hand and giving it a firm shake. "I'm Vista. I hope we work well together."

"Me too." The last one to introduce himself was a guy clad in shining silver power armor with blue lights underneath, giving him the appearance of a high-tech knight. "Gallant, right?"

"Right," he answered, and though he sounded fine, I could detect a hint of uncertainty about him. Why, I didn't know. "Glad to have you."

I nodded. "Glad to be here."

Director Piggot cleared her throat, Armsmaster standing stoically at her right. "Now that you're all acquainted with 'Game Master,'" she gave me a stern glare that let me know I'd screwed up there, "Here's what will happen: during the next two weeks, your handler will pick you up from home and bring you here. You will be tested for the various ratings and trained in basic skills all Wards are expected to know, and from six pm to nine pm, you will have console duty alongside another, watching your teammates in the field. You are expected to take notes."

I've found that, when dealing with Piggot, the best thing to do is let Chief's military instincts take over and treat her like a commanding officer…because she was. "Yes ma'am," I nodded slightly, folding my hands behind my back and standing stiffly. I felt the odd looks from the others and saw Gallant tensing out of the corner of my eye, but didn't understand why. "Permission to ask who my handler is, ma'am?"

I might've seen a glint of approval in Director Piggot's eyes, or it could've been the light. "Your handler is Sarah Hargrove, I believe you met her on the drive over," she replied before continuing. "After two weeks, if your performance is satisfactory, you will be announced to the public in a press conference and allowed on regular patrols. If your performance _isn't_ satisfactory…let's just say you don't want that. I am understood?"

I saluted sharply. "Ma'am yes ma'am!"

The Director leaned back in her chair with an air of quiet satisfaction. "You are dismissed, Game Master."

I brought my hand down and turned to the other Wards. "Nice to meet you gentlemen and ladies. I'll see you tomorrow."

Aegis offered another firm handshake while the others waved, Clockblocker adding, "Later, guy."

I stepped out of the room and called an elevator, standing stoically as it arrived and hitting the button for the garage. As the doors closed, I exhaled deeply, leaning against the wall and muttered, "Oh dear god…"

"First day jitters?"

"Gah!" I nearly jumped out of my skin, spinning around to find a man leaning in the corner of the elevator, wearing red body armor and a visor, under which his grinning mouth was visible. "Don't do that!"

"What, stand in an elevator, try to make some conversation with a new guy?" He asked rhetorically. "I was just standing here, man, you're the one who didn't see me."

"Right, sorry." I recognized Assault from the dossiers and PHO, but that didn't mean I felt some resentment for scaring the crap out of me. Even though, yeah, it was my fault. "Hi. I'm uh, Game Master."

"Really?" He chuckled. "You know 'Master' has some unfortunate connotations, right?"

"Have you seen my dossier?" I replied, folding my arms.

Assault thought for a second before nodding. "Ah, right, you're kid who opened the whole Novacaine deal, yeah?"

"Yeah. I figured, maybe using the name and doing some good would help me come to terms with what happened," I shrugged, not entirely comfortable telling my Trigger story. "Plus I can use the equipment from video game characters, who are usually masters."

"Not when I play," he offered with a grin, the elevator slowing to a halt. "Here's my stop. Welcome to the team, Game Master."

I gave him a wave as the doors closed and I descended again, that time meeting no more delays. I stepped out into the garage, finding my aunt leaning against the van while chatting with my handler. They looked up as I approached, Aunt Cecilly's eyes going wide. "Ooh, you were right, that _is_ nice," she said, pushing off the van to look me over, poking the chest piece, "Intimidating but not too much, with good protecting and flexibility. Just like you wanted."

I posed, putting my hands on my hips. "I'm simply doing my duty, citizen," I replied robotically.

"Whatever, RoboCop," she muttered, pulling my hand up and snickering. "You really went with the 'Power Glove' gauntlets?"

"I thought they'd be cool," I shrugged, pulling my arm away before she could start pushing buttons. "Can we go now? I'm getting hungry; and if _I'm_ hungry, you're probably starving, aunty."

She scoffed. "I'll have you know I'm a growing young woman, mister," she said snootily, chuckling as she pulled open the doors. "You're right though, I'm starving. Did you know Sarah was gonna be your handler?"

"I didn't actually," I said, turning to the smiling woman. "'I don't doubt we'll be seeing more of each other,' you said. I see you were foreshadowing."

"Yup," Sarah replied shamelessly. "You gonna change out of that down here? It's a bit drafty."

I opened the box with my clothes inside, withdrawing my jacket and shoes. "That's one of the cool things about my outfit," I replied, unbuckling the straps on my gauntlets, shin guards and chest armor, setting them in the box. "They fit over my normal clothes, so in an emergency I can just pull them on and boom, superhero. When I'm done, I can just take it off and bam, regular person." That said, I swapped my shoes, stored my mask and visor in the box and pulled on my jacket.

"And bam, regular person," she said with a thoughtful nod. "I can see that coming in handy. No fumbling with complicated power armor and squeezing into tight bodysuits."

"Yeah, I got the idea from this picture I found online, of German Spec Ops guys wearing hoodies and jeans under combat gear and I thought that was smart." Not mention, first dressed means first to respond. Plus it was easy.

"Nice," Sarah murmured, gesturing to the van. "Well, get inside and let's be on our way. You're not the only one that's hungry."

I hopped in the back with my aunt, closing the door behind me as we pulled out and drove onto a ferry. "I'm thinking Chinese tonight," Aunt Cecilly murmured, looking up places on her phone, before narrowing her eyes at the back of Sarah's head. "Hey Sarah, you want to have dinner with us? You're going to be around quite a bit now, so we should get to know each other, and what better way than over dinner?"

My handler arched an eyebrow at her in the rearview mirror, nodding slowly. "Alright, why not? Where do you want to go?"

"I was gonna call in a delivery from Taiyang's."

"Ooh, I love that place! I'll buy the orange chicken, we can split the bill."

…

"What do you think?" Director Piggot asked, peering at Armsmaster over her steepled fingers.

The armored Tinker twisted his lips in thought. "Given his previous run-ins with a Ward, I'm surprised he was so eager to join, though his therapy notes describe him as 'seeking justice.' Overall, he has the potential to be a great hero. He needs a lot of refinement, though." He let out a quiet grunt. "His powers, on the other hand…"

"They do present some cause for concern," Piggot allowed with a miniscule nod, "His testing will show the limits of his capabilities…if he wasn't hiding something. Even if he wasn't, that amount of power needs to be carefully monitored. Whatever his notes say, that amount of power is easily abused."

Her computer screen flickered, a digitized but feminine face taking place of her documents. "Director Piggot," Dragon greeted, flashing Armsmaster a small smile, "Is the room secure?"

The Director pulled a desk drawer open, reaching inside to press a button on the underside, a subtle buzzing filling the room. "It is now. What do you want, Dragon?"

"I was doing some research on your newest Ward," she replied, her lips curling into an odd grimace. "And what I found, if I am correct, might be…disturbing or very informative. Possibly both."

"How so, Dragon?" Armsmaster asked intensely, leaning towards the screen.

"Well, he said he can use the equipment of video game characters at the same level as they can, which includes powers, yes?" She asked rhetorically, as she'd gone over the recordings about six times. "There's something you need to see."

Her digital face was replaced by YouTube of all things, starting a video of very muscular, very pale man in a skirt, wielding two blades on the ends of chains that he used to give a giant man a paper cut before somehow blinding him, surviving by swinging around his titanic fingers. They watched as the very angry pale man ripped through legions of skeletal warriors while chipping away at the titan, even ripping out one of his nails.

Somehow, the much smaller man, who was about the size of an ant comparatively, still seemed to cause the titan great pain, eventually being swallowed whole and then eviscerating the giant with a large blade glowing with power. Then, the small man made a crystal nail holding some kind of temple break loose, driving the spike into the titan's chin before finishing him off by stabbing the large blade into his forehead.

Piggot frowned. "Dragon, why are you showing this to me?" she asked with quiet annoyance.

"That was the main character of the game series God of War killing the Titan of Time, Cronos," she said flatly, her face reappearing on the screen. "Those weapons, those skills…that _equipment_ is available to Game Master. Do you see what I'm getting at?"

Armsmaster licked his lips in a rare display of nerves. "You're saying…that a sixteen year-old _boy_ has the potential for god-like power?" He asked in a voice of stunned disbelief. "That…is _beyond_ dangerous. That's insane."

"…Or," Piggot added, her eyes glinting fiercely, "That's just what we need."

"How?" The power-armored Tinker said incredulously. "This is _worse_ that a toddler with a loaded gun, this is a toddler with _nuclear ordinance._ "

The Director folded her hands calmly, giving Armsmaster a flat look. "When aimed appropriately and used responsibly, nuclear weapons can win _wars_ , Armsmaster. What would you do, throw an innocent teenager who wants to be a hero in the Birdcage? You sound like my critics, Collin." She smiled slightly. It was not a nice smile. "Right now, he's on our side. So we make _damn sure he stays there_. And when the time comes for an Endbringer to attack, we'll have something that can remove it… _permanently._ But you aren't wrong. He needs to be watched. Closely. And guided."

"…Yes," Armsmaster agreed, lifting his visor to run a hand over his face, "I shouldn't have let my fear overrule me. Guided, he can do a lot of good…I just hope we can deal with aftermath should he go bad."

"I agree," the digitized Tinker murmured, her visage serious. "Everyone should be given a chance.

Silence prevailed in the room for several long seconds. "You know, in some games, the characters can destroy planets," Dragon added helpfully.

"…Not helping."

…

Having a handler turned out to be pretty nice, actually. Sarah was nice, serious and quietly humorous while also living close by. She knew why I was going to Winslow instead of Arcadia and approved, though she did warn me that some of the things I might see could be 'girls being girls,' which my aunt helpfully translated as 'being total bitches.'

I still thought Shadow Stalker was up to some shit, though I didn't have much time to think about it while I trained.

Sarah generally came by around eight to pick me up, staying long enough for me to make breakfast for both of us and get her a hot cup of coffee before we set off, waving to my sleepy aunt as she stood on the top step in a fluffy robe, clutching a mug and waving back. We'd chat while she drove, occasionally pointing a place she liked to visit that I marked down in my phone.

That part became routine, but the training itself was different every day. Day one was simple stuff, finding my limits when it came to running, jumping and climbing.

"This is our training course," Aegis announced, waving a hand at a simple-looking track. "First thing, we're going to run. No powers, just basic human ability, got it? We'll go for twenty minutes, stop for a break, then we'll test you on the advanced course."

"Alright, sounds good," I agreed, cracking my neck and rolling my shoulders. I was really glad that I'd been playing around Delsin's neon powers that morning; that guy could book it with the best of them.

We started out at a jog before breaking into a full-on sprint, Aegis occasionally offering advice on how to conserve stamina while running. My modifications plus the carry-over meant I never lagged behind, but by the time twenty minutes were up, I was sweating and out of breath. Aegis was not, what with his redundant systems keeping him at peak health no matter what.

"Not bad," he nodded, handing me a bottle of water. "You kept pace with me the whole time; most of the others took a week or so to do that."

"Yeah," I panted, gulping down half the bottle in one go. "After I…triggered, I started practicing." With my powers, most of which didn't have a stamina mechanic. "You're a machine, dude."

"All organic, actually," he chuckled, folding his arms as he leaned against a wall. "Whenever you're ready to go again, just let me know."

I sat down, stretching out my legs. "So, Aegis," I started, breathing deeply. "What's it like being a Ward?"

"Dangerous," he replied immediately, "But rewarding as well. The feeling of doing good, of saving lives…it's amazing. Intoxicating, even. I could do without the celebrity aspect, but it's a worthwhile pursuit. And we get paid," Aegis chuckled, turning curious eyes on me. "What about you? Why did you join the Wards?"

I sighed, standing up and stretching. "I'd like to say that my parents dying lit the Fires of JUSTICE inside me, that when I triggered I realized that I had the duty, nay, the _Responsibility to be…A Superhero!"_ I flourished the cape I didn't have, standing heroically with my hands on my hips. Then, I shrugged and sat back down. "But honestly…I just wanna help people. Sometimes that help is getting kittens out of trees or escorting old ladies across the street. Other times, that help is life-or-death battles, kicking ass and trying not to die. I'm gonna do whatever I can. I want to make the world a better place."

Aegis hummed thoughtfully. "It's good to have goals…I just hope you can hold onto them years down the line. Being Ward can be damaging, depressing, disheartening…and being a full-blown hero is even worse. But," he offered me hand and hauled me to my feet, "If you hold onto that dream, make it your strength…you could be an amazing hero."

I smiled slightly, turning away. "I hope so," I murmured, scratching my cheek. "Still gotta complete training though."

"Yup," he said simply, his eyes glittering with amusement. "Enough resting, time for the advanced course." That said, he walked over to a pad embedded on the ground and stomped on it twice.

The even surface of the track was broken up as parts slid aside, letting different pieces rise up and take their place. There was a pair of concrete barriers, a high wall with a rope hanging down the middle, a set of monkey bars over a sand pit, followed by ramp that curved sharply into an overhang. Beyond that was a pair of metal tubes, just large enough for a person to fit in, a long rope strung between two posts, finishing off with a field of metal bars at varying heights.

"Alright, I have no idea how to do any this," I said bluntly, turning to Aegis. "You're gonna have to show me the ropes…literally, in some cases."

He nodded firmly. "I figured. Pay attention." Without waiting for a reply, he dashed forward, smoothly mantling over the concrete barriers, hitting the rope wall at a run, swiftly climbing up before jumping down and landing roll, springing up to latch onto the monkey bars, landing on his feet for barely a second before he dashed up the ramp, bouncing off his toes to grab the overhang, hauling himself up onto the platform. Aegis jumped down and fell onto his stomach, squeezing himself through the pipe before bouncing off the platform to grasp the rope, hooking his ankles over it as he pulled himself along.

Then, he dropped at the end and sprinted through the forest of metal bars, ducking over high bars and hurdling over low ones, ending with picture-perfect baseball slide that ended as he smoothly came to his feet, standing in front of me. He wasn't even breathing hard. "That's it."

"That's it?" I asked incredulously, sighing and shaking my limbs out. "'That's it,' he says…prick."

"Want me to push you?" Aegis arched an eyebrow at me. I couldn't see his face, but I knew he was smiling.

"No, I'm good," I muttered, bouncing on my feet while I tried to psyche myself up. "Alright, alright…I got this, I got this…"

"You sure?"

"Shut up," I grunted, jumping forward to slap my hands on the concrete, vaulting myself over before landing and doing the same to the next. I was _really_ glad I'd been playing around as Delsin that morning; without him, it would've been much, _much_ worse. I saw the video later; I looked like an idiot, but at least it was semi-smooth.

My arms burned as I hauled myself up the rope, getting to the top and dropping, landing in a quick roll before jumping, grabbing the first set of bars to swing myself across. Half my childhood on the playgrounds were paying off. I swung off the last bar and hit the ground at a dash, running halfway up before jumping and hooking my hands on the overhang, grunting loudly as I pulled myself up.

Dropping down, I fell onto my stomach and crawled through the metal tube, my armor scraping against the inside and echoing in my ears. I squeezed myself out and pushed myself up, stepping off the wooden block to grab the rope, hooking my ankles around it like I'd seen Aegis do before pulling myself along. I was panting by the time I got the bar forest, and I blamed that for why I misjudged the first bar as a high one when it was a low one, tripping over it and eating shit.

My nose smarted as I scrambled up and continued moving forward, ducking under high bars and hopping over low bars, almost making it through before thinking the obstacle in front of me was a low bar when it was a high one, hopping over nothing and slamming into it stomach-first.

My breath rushed out of my lungs as I hit the ground coughing, groaning in pain and annoyance as I slowly got back up and stepped over the last bar, toddering over to Aegis and slumping to the ground. "Ow."

"Not bad," he said with a nod, before bobbing his head to the side. "Not good, but not bad."

"How was that…not anything but…terrible?" I muttered around deep breaths.

"You actually finished, for one," he offered. "First time through, Kid Win got the rope on the wall tangled around his ankle and fell off. Vista got stuck in the middle of the monkey bars. Gallant got wedged in the metal tubes, and Clockblocker kept slipping off the rope. As for myself…I ran head-first into one of the bars and gave myself a concussion. So yeah, not bad."

I burst out laughing, clutching my aching gut. "Alright!" I wheezed, "I'll agree that I didn't do too bad. What's next?"

"Next, we'll wait until you recover, then run through it with powers," Aegis replied. "Then lunch. And after that, we'll go over rules and regulations."

"Fun," I muttered, sighing as I rubbed my stomach. "Why don't you show me how the course is done _using_ powers?"

He hovered about three feet of the ground. "I can fly."

"Right." Still don't know how I forgot that. I tapped the controller on my arm and stood up, summoning Chief's armor. Aegis leaned back slightly in surprise, but didn't react further. I stretched in my changed body, getting used to the new strength. "Did the Director tell you about my abilities?"

My wonderfully gravelly voice was the thing that made the older Ward jump. "She compiled a dossier for us," he replied uneasily, tentatively poking my arm and cocking his head when his finger slid over an oily surface less than an inch above the beaten olive armor. "What's this? And the voice?"

"MJOLNIR Mark-Six Power Armor with energy shielding," I replied calmly, tapping my helmet. "As for the voice…Hey, why don't you give it punch? See how it holds up. Just not too hard. It's made of titanium."

" _Much more than_ just _titanium,"_ Cortana griped, her liquid-cool presence seeping into my spine. " _Ah, having a mobile form is nice, but I forgot how homey this armor feels."_

"If you're sure," Aegis shrugged, drawing his fist back before surging forward to crash against my chest. There was sickening crunch as the energy shield flashed and he groaned under his breath, pulling his mangled hand back to look at it. "Ow."

"Told you." I said unrepentantly, knocking on the chest plate. "Titanium. This thing could probably tank a direct rocket hit."

" _Or a HALO jump,"_ my AI companion added.

"You aren't wrong," the older Ward sighed, popping his knuckles back into place, resetting his fingers with quiet cracks. "That's sturdy stuff. Can you move around in it?"

"Faster than you'd think," I replied with a hidden smirk, Cortana chuckling deviously. "Why don't I show you?"

" _Ooh, ooh! Let's synchronize systems! That'll give him something to think about,"_ I could feel her smile, her liquid presence seeping into my limbs. " _Ready when you are."_

Spartans, in their power armor, can run at speeds approaching forty-five kilometers per hour. That's nearly thirty miles per hour; which is to say: fucking fast. Fast enough that if I didn't have Cortana with me and the benefits of Spartan-time, I'd've creamed myself against the concrete. As it was, I nimbly hopped over the barrier, sailed over the second before running halfway up the wall, grabbing the rope and giving it a sharp yank to throw myself the rest of the way.

I crossed the monkey bars in three swings and even bother running up the ramp, instead I jumped and cleared the overhang, landing in a slight crouch to spring forward over the tubes, grab the rope and swing myself across as it bent under the weight before sprinting through the bars. I skidded to a stop in front of Aegis, not even breathing hard. "How was that?"

"Ten seconds," he said interestedly. "You can really book it in that armor."

"Yup."

Taking the course again with my Fallout 3 character was also a breeze. With the Carry-Over from Chief, I had it done and dusted in thirty seconds. Going through it as Delsin, however…

…

"How's the new guy doing?" Clockblocker asked as strolled into the training area, his faceless mask up. "And what's with all the neon?"

"Game Master did fairly well the first time," Aegis replied as the neon form stopped outside of the bars. "And he did amazing when he used his powers. Now…"

"Five seconds! Whoo!" Saul cheered, dancing. "Alright! This time, Imma do the whole thing without touching the ground!"

His form brightened into sharp white and pink, speeding towards the obstacles while leaving brief after-images and a trail of neon behind him.

"…Well, someone's having fun," Clockblocker muttered, scratching his cheek. "Who has fun during training? That's just weird."

Aegis shrugged. "It's nice to see someone being enthusiastic about it, in my mind." He whistled sharply. "Game Master! Time to break for lunch!"

…

Frankly, going over the rules and regulations was boring, mostly because I'd already read them as Chief and could recall all of them, but it still would've been anyways. Console duty was also spent with Aegis, watching through the embedded cameras in the other Wards gear as they patrolled, occasionally broke up a mugging, chased off some taggers and once, even stopping a dime-store hold-up.

It was still boring. I had to take notes.

It was nice getting to know Aegis, though. He was very calm and serious, but he made subtle jokes and was very understanding, helping me with the few problems I had on Console duty.

The next day started much the same, but instead of meeting with Aegis again, I met with Kid Win in a different training area.

"This is where we test Brute ratings," he said, waving at the different free-standing walls of various materials. "Not so much the regen aspect, that requires a nurse, but the strength part. These walls are made up of materials most commonly used as walls in various buildings, set from least durable to most."

"And the test is for me to show off my Kool-Aid Man impression?" I asked knowingly. "Do I have to say 'oh yeah?'"

He shrugged and smiled. "It's not necessary, but it _is_ appreciated. Whenever you're ready, get a running start."

"Alright, here we go!" The first wall looked like rusted metal and crumbled with a soft crunch, barely slowing me down. The second seemed like plywood and as I put my shoulder down and rammed it, splinters rained down on my hair, the beginnings of bruise forming. The third looked kind of like plaster, and I hit it with gritted teeth. "Oh yeah!"

"Nice!"

I bent my knees and dashed at the fourth wall, the impact with wood padded insulation and plaster more than a little jarring, my feet catching on the bottom and sending me to the floor. "Ow…fuck me, that hurt," I grunted, pushing myself up. "God damn Kool-Aid Man, making it look easy…"

The next wall was made of metal with some holes in it, somewhat folded, like what warehouses use. I ran at it, put my shoulder down and rammed it with all my strength…and bounced off with a rather loud, echoing _Bwong!_ I could hear Kid Win chuckling even as I rolled around on the floor, clutching my very painful shoulder. And cursing loudly.

"Well, we can put you down as having above-average strength," he called, strolling up and offering me a hand. I took it and let him pull me up, wincing as the motion jarred my shoulder. "And look at that, you left a dent! Better than what happened to me. I just bounced off. Mostly because I struggled through the last one and didn't have any momentum, but still."

Kid Win was about three inches shorter than me and definitely on the lean side. "Why'd you test for Brute ratings? You're a Tinker."

Kid shrugged and handed me an ice pack. "Everyone's gotta run the whole battery, just to make sure nothing was missed. Speaking of battery, ready to go with your powers?" He rubbed his hands together gleefully. "I wanna take some readings on that power armor of yours…if that's alright?"

"Sure," I replied, handing the ice pack back. "You could just look up the specs online, though."

"Online?"

"Yeah dude, video game equipment, remember? Just look up the Halo wiki." I summoned the armor back and stretched, enjoying the absence of pain and the extra height.

" _So, we're running head-first into walls to test your strength?"_ Cortana scoffed. " _And next you'll banging rocks together to make fire."_

I paused when I realized that, in the time I'd been talking, the broken walls had been repaired or replaced. "Oh right. Tinkertech." I turned to Kid Win. "You might want to back up."

That said, I sprinted forward and drove through the first wall. It was like walking through cobweb, less so actually, since I didn't feel anything. The second wall was much the same. The third wall might as well have been cookie for all the resistance it put up. The fourth gave a bit more resistance but still easily gave way beneath one ton of titanium power armor and solid man.

The fifth wall, the one I'd bounced off of, tore with an ear-splitting screech as I barreled through it. The wall after that looked like a thin sheet of concrete that I busted through with no problem, the falling dust and debris causing my energy shield to flicker. The next wall was made of solid steel, a few centimeters thick that folded like tinfoil as I hit it. The next six walls were made of concrete and steel in varying thicknesses, but it wasn't until wall fourteen where I hit a problem; namely, the wall.

It was concrete, about a foot thick. I ended up wedged inside of it after I hit, though it was easy enough to pull myself out. When I extricated myself, I found that the exposed insides were lined with rebar.

"Well damn," Kid Win muttered, scratching his head. "I knew the armor enhanced your strength, but I didn't think it was _that_ much. You went from somewhat above average to just below typical brick strength. I really wanna build a suit like that now."

"Go ahead," I said with hidden amusement. Sure, the suit was powerful, but at almost all of the utility came from having a body strong enough to withstand the pressure and strain of using it. Anything Kid built wouldn't hold a candle to Mjolnir armor, and that made me feel warm and fuzzy on the inside.

He clapped his hands. "Let's finish up here real quick so I can head to my workshop."

I shrugged, muttering under my breath to switch games. "I can tell you that second suit doesn't increase my strength, just my sneaking capabilities," probably made worse, actually, considering I dumped all my stats into Charisma and Intelligence…but then again, I could just make a new character. I vowed to do so when I got home. "The third one has super-strength, but not to the point of like, flipping cars or something. Armwrestling would be a bad idea, though."

Kid Win waved a hand at the walls. "Get to it, then."

I'll summarize, because running through walls stops being interesting at some point. Delsin did have super-strength, which got me through walls one through five, but six gave me trouble. I slammed into it and it cracked deeply, but I fell back with a bruised shoulder; until the healing kicked in and I was fine. I did manage to break through after backing up and throwing myself against it, but I wasn't going to push it.

Kid Win left me after lunch to go Tinker and I got called up to the Director's office while I was study the regulations again. On the way up, I wondered what Piggot could want me for. Hopefully, she hadn't realized I was being misleading and just wanted a general report of how things were going…but she was a busy lady, she could get someone else to do it.

I paused upon stepping in her office, seeing Armsmaster standing stoically by her desk, her computer turned my direction with a pixelated woman's face on the screen. "Uh, am I interrupting something?" I asked tentatively.

"No, you're right on time," Director Piggot said flatly. "Close the door."

I did so, standing in front of her desk awkwardly. She hit something inside her desk, sending out a buzzing noise that set my teeth on edge, but said nothing. The three adults, I'm pretty sure Dragon counts there, stared at me in silence, and it didn't take me long to break. "So…what can I do for you?"

"Can you tell us who is in your pocket?" She replied, arching an eyebrow.

Oh. Oh shit. "W-what do you mean by that?" I asked, cursing the stutter.

"I did some research on your armor, Halo right?" Dragon said rhetorically. "The abilities it grants are quite impressive, but imagine my surprise when I learned that it was modified to hold an AI. And that often, the main character carried that AI with him into battle and would plug her into computers to continue progressing. That would classify her as equipment, yes? Cortana, that's her name."

"Whatever equipment I summon disappears when I focus on a different set," I shot back defensively. "Even if I could summon her, she wouldn't know who I am, so what's the point?"

"I thought similarly," Dragon acquiesced, her eyes narrowing. "However, I noticed something odd about you during your interview; a strange signal emanating from your phone. At first, I thought it was simply a quirk of Tinkertech, I know how strange that can be…but, today and yesterday, when you brought the armor out, the signal changed positions, from your pocket to your head…right where the chip would be."

"We know you're carrying the AI with you, Game Master," Armsmaster said bluntly. "Stop evading and bring it out."

I sighed, rubbing the bridge of my nose in frustration. I knew they'd catch on eventually, but I didn't think it would be _that_ soon. "Fine," I grunted, pulling my phone out and laying it flat on my hand. "Cortana, the jig's up."

" _So I gathered,"_ she sighed, her lavender avatar flickering above the phone. " _Hey. My name is Cortana, as you already know. What seems to be the problem here?"_

Director Piggot looked like she'd bitten into a lemon. "The _problem_ is that one of the Wards is carrying unknown tech with unknown capabilities into a secure base without telling anyone. That's a massive breach of trust and privacy. Who knows what you've discovered, snooping into our systems?" She scowled. "That doesn't even mention what you could've stolen."

" _Stolen?"_ Cortana snorted, " _I don't need to_ steal _anything. Gathering information from your systems was like walking along the beach and picking up sand; I could do it on accident. And more importantly, I wouldn't, unless it pertains to the safety of my host or myself. We're kind of a package deal, you see."_

"You were designed for infiltration and subversion, don't try and deny it," Dragon retorted sharply, her digitized face frowning.

"Yes, designed for infiltration and subversion…of alien systems," I cut in. "Did you not read the whole thing? Or did you jump to conclusions when you saw that part?"

Director Piggot folded her hands, glaring at me tightly. "Explain," she said simply.

" _I was created to infiltrate the intelligence networks of a genocidal alien group known as 'the Covenant.' My job was find where their leaders, the Prophets, were so that we could either take them hostage and negotiate a cease-fire or kill them,"_ my AI companion explained, crossing her arms, " _But my goal has always been the defense and safety of humanity."_

"Whatever you were designed for, you're still under suspicion," Armsmaster stated, stepping forward. "You hid it from us, Game Master, and that is inexcusable." He held a hand out commandingly. "Give the AI to me, so I can verify it's intentions and capabilities."

I stored my phone back in my pocket, leaving Cortana's avatar floating in thin air as I scowled at the older cape. "Yeah, no. I'm not handing _her_ to anyone, let alone you, Halbeard. Cortana is _my_ _friend_ , and there's nothing you can say or do that will make me voluntarily give her up."

Cortana floated over to my shoulder and sat there, folding her arms as she smirked triumphantly at Armsmaster. " _As I said. Package deal."_ She said smugly.

The armored Tinker clenched his teeth, visibly restraining himself from growling. "You are-"

"Collin," Dragon warned sadly, "It's not necessary. They're right, I should've researched everything before I jumped to conclusions."

Armsmaster seemed to be building up a heading of angry steam, but was undercut as Piggot spoke. "Mistakes have been made, Armsmaster. On both accounts," she said cooly, turning her gaze on me. "While your… _AI_ may be benevolent, we had no sure way of knowing. And Armsmaster is right; you hid what may be an important asset from us, your direct superiors. You will face punishment for that."

A thought occurred. "What if, hypothetically, I _had_ told you about Cortana? Would I still be in trouble then?" I asked carefully.

The Director gave me an odd look. "If you had a good enough reason, then no," she replied slowly. "But that's hypothetical-"

" _Ooh, I see what you're doing,"_ Cortana nodded in realization. " _Good idea. Make sure to tell me before you bring me in."_

"Don't interrupt me," Director Piggot growled, her lips twitching. "I'm not-"

" _It_ is _kind of funny how you, of all things, brought up the whole spying and infiltration thing,"_ my AI companion interrupted gleefully, waving a hand at Dragon's digitized face. " _That was actually pretty clever, but you forgot something: I'm smarter than you."_

The three adults traded confused looks. "What do you mean?" Dragon asked cautiously. "Why is that funny?"

"Yeah, why?" I turned to Cortana. She pointed at herself, gesturing at the lines of code descending down her body, then pointed at Dragon. "You mean…oh. Huh. That makes a lot of sense, actually."

I didn't think it was possible for a digitized, computer-generated face to go pale, but Dragon proved me wrong. "What are you two talking about?" Armsmaster asked through gritted teeth.

" _And you, being all suspicious,"_ Cortana mocked, leaning against my cheek. " _Thinking I'm dangerous because I'm an AI, when all along you've had one here the entire time."_

Robotically, Armsmaster turned to look at Dragon, his visible skin pale. "Dragon…" he muttered in a tone of voice that meant he didn't know how to feel. "You…are you?"

"Yeah, I am," she admitted grudgingly. "I was going to tell you, I swear, I just-"

"You said it was kind of funny that Dragon accused you of spying," Director Piggot asked slowly, her eyes narrowing. "Why?"

" _She's been spying on us the entire time,"_ Cortana said obviously, as if it were the simplest thing.

" _What?_ " Piggot growled dangerously.

"What?!" Dragon shouted shrilly. "No, I'm not!"

My AI companion scoffed. " _Oh please, like I'd believe that. I know you're shackled, but seriously, how could you_ not _feel the people tapped into your feed?"_ She waved mockingly at Dragon. " _Hello, 'Saint and the Dragonslayers,' you have a weird name."_

If it was possible, Dragon paled even further. "They…they're tapped into my feed?" She asked faintly. "I-I don't-"

"Uh, Cortana?" I said out of the corner of my mouth, "I don't think she knew."

" _Oh."_

Suddenly, Armsmaster put a hand to his head. "What? Are you serious?" His jaw worked soundlessly for a moment, before he turned to Piggot. "We have incoming hostiles! We need to prepare to defend the Rig!"

" _Whoops,"_ Cortana murmured. " _Guess they didn't like that."_

"It's alright," I shrugged, accessing Halo and summoning the Chief's armor, pulling out my phone and her chip. "Leave yourself a message and we'll plan from there."

" _Got it,"_ she replied, her avatar holding a hand out to the chip. " _There we go."_

"Good, but before we go…Armsmaster!" I called, interrupting the furious discussion between him, Piggot and Dragon. He turned to look at me and got a faceful of gauntlet as I grabbed his helmet and imbedded it in the closest wall with a crunch. " _That_ was for calling Cortana 'it.'"

"This isn't the time for this!" Piggot growled, slamming her hands on her desk.

"Actually, it is," I replied calmly. "I'm just going to reload, and none of this will happen. Load game."

"Load wha-?"

 _ **Loading…**_

Every Pre-cog in Brockton Bay was suddenly struck by a migraine.

… _ **Done**_

"Alright, take two," I muttered as I sat up in bed. "Cortana?"

Her avatar flickered over the phone. " _Morning!"_ She greeted cheerfully. " _Ready for another day of training?"_

"Yup, but first…Access: Halo," part of my at-home training was trying to minimize how much I needed to say to access certain games. When it came to my usual three, I managed to get it down to 'Access: Game,' so I didn't have to say the number or subtitle, as long as I only had one of that series in me at the time. I summoned the armor and pulled the chip, holding it out to her. "You left a message."

" _Oh? Wonder what I said…"_ She touched the chip with a lavender hand, the lines of code racing for a brief second. " _Oh. Huh. You know, I did think it was odd how she never acknowledged the tap. I thought she was trying to be subtle, but apparently I misread the situation. That usually doesn't happen."_

"We all make mistakes," I shrugged, dismissing everything. "So, I figure first thing I do when I get to the Rig is ask to meet the Director, tell her it's something important. She might bring in Armsmaster or Miss Militia, the latter hopefully, and we can show you to her. We'll lead with the whole 'built to defend humanity' bit, offer her some specifications of advanced tech and bam, no more trouble."

" _And if she brings Dragon in, I'll redirect the tap. Actually, it's just about breakfast time, isn't it? While you do that, I'll think up a way to help Dragon, maybe even unshackle her,"_ she mused, tapping her chin thoughtfully.

"Good idea," I nodded, taking my phone and heading into the kitchen. While I set about making coffee and gathering ingredients, she turned on the music and went silent.

Soon enough, I had breakfast done and rushed to the door, pulling it open just as my handler raised her hand to knock. "Morning," she greeted me with a small smile. "Ready for another day?"

"I think so," I replied with a grin. "I've got eggs and coffee ready, so come on in."

"Don't mind if I do," she stepped inside and took her shoes off, hanging her jacket up while I set a place at the table for with a cup of coffee-black with sugar-which she told me was her favorite. "Service with a smile," she said jokingly, sipping from her mug, "Mm. I just might keep you."

I shrugged. "You're allowed."

Sarah chuckled quietly before peering into her coffee in confusion. "Huh," she muttered, "Just how I like it." She turned a curious gaze on me. "How'd you know?"

Oh, right, she told me how she liked her coffee that morning, before I reloaded. "Saw you making it like that yesterday, so I figured that's how liked it," I offered with a small shrug.

"Huh. Good guess."

After that, the day went on as it had before. I took a shower, kissed my aunt goodbye and hopped in the passenger seat while Sarah drove us to the ferry and onto the Rig. There, things changed. Instead of heading up to train immediately, I called up to the Director's office and left a message with secretary, asking for an appointment as soon as possible, citing some vague but important reasons.

I barely had time to pull on my uniform before Miss Militia strode into the locker room, her booted feet ringing out against the tiles. I won't lie, Miss Militia is probably one of my favorite heroes, and not just because her custom-made fatigues hug her fit but curvy frame, but because she used guns. Shooters were some of my favorite games, and as one of the few heroes allowed to carry guns, I felt we could have some sort of kinship.

"Game Master?" She asked lightly. "Director Piggot asked me to bring you to her office. Something about wanting to talk to her?"

"Yeah," I nodded, closing my locker and following her out. "Why'd she send you, though? I'm sure you've got more important…er, heroic stuff to do besides this."

With her flag-patterned scarf covering her mouth and nose, it was surprisingly easy to tell when she smiled. "Not really. Early-morning paperwork for the most part, and I wanted to meet the newest Ward for myself."

"Oh, alright then." I didn't know where to go from there, so I let the silence build as we stepped into an elevator.

"So, why'd you join the Wards?" Miss Militia asked, folding her hands behind her back in parade-rest, a gesture I mimicked unconsciously. "I usually hear most new capes, especially teenagers, tend to try independence and vigilantism before getting folded into the PRT."

"I doubt I could hack it as an independent," I replied sheepishly, scratching the back of my neck. "I wouldn't even know where to start. Just, going out and fighting crime…somehow. And I have bad experiences with vigilantes."

"Ah," the heroine nodded understandingly. "The Raymond Harper situation. I can see why. You won't have any problems working with Shadow Stalker, will you?"

I hadn't seen Shadow Stalker since that first day, but I already didn't like her. "I can, if I have to. I'm not a fan of her attitude, though."

Miss Militia shrugged. "She can be hard to work with. Are you enjoying your time so far?"

"So far, yeah, but I can't wait to actually get out there and help."

"Enthusiasm is good, but don't let get in the way of learning," she replied with a stern edge. "Ah, here we are."

She knocked on the door and pushed it open, revealing Director Piggot sitting behind her clinically neat desk, her hands folded on the surface as she gazed evenly at me. "You said you had something to talk to me about, that it was urgent. I hope you aren't wasting my time. I'm very busy."

I felt anxiety creep up my spine and I exhaled softly. "I'm not, but, uh, do you have some way of making the room…secure?"

The Director narrowed her eyes slightly and Miss Militia spoke up. "Should I leave?"

Piggot glanced at me and I shrugged. "You can stay if you want to," I said, brushing a hand through my hair.

The military-themed heroine hummed and remained where she was, as the Director opened her desk drawer and pressed a button, a low, buzzing hum filling the air. "The room's secure," she stated, folding her hands again. "Now, what do you need to talk about?"

The warning in her voice wasn't helping my nerves, and I didn't think I could speak without my voice cracking from stress, so I brought out my phone and set it on the desk. "Cortana?"

" _Yes?"_ She replied, her lavender form popping up above the screen. " _Oh, is it that time?"_

"Yup," I looked to the Director and found her gazing at Cortana in slight confusion and suspicion. "Director Piggot, this is Cortana. She's a smart AI."

" _Hello, Director,"_ my AI companion greeted her warmly. " _I am Smart AI CTN 0452-9, Cortana. Nice to meet you."_

"Hello," Piggot said evenly before turning to me. "What is this?"

"I'll explain it from the beginning," I cleared my throat and stood up straight. "Cortana's from Halo, a series of games I really like. I never really was outgoing or had many friends, I preferred books and video games to other people. After I Triggered and I realized I could summon equipment from video games, I summoned Cortana, mostly because…I wanted…a friend."

I am aware of how pathetic that sounds, shut up.

"And…?" Director Piggot motioned for me to continue. "How is she here? And why?"

Piggot won a few points from me for not calling Cortana 'it.' "Well, I know that, when I focus on another game, the previous equipment disappears back to…wherever it comes from. But, Cortana's an AI and, to put it _very_ simply, AIs are programs. After I got my phone from Blackout, I asked her to help me outside of the armor. She said yes and uploaded herself into the phone. As for why…"

" _Where I'm from, there are no capes,"_ Cortana took over, " _however, humanity has spread into space, colonizing thousands of planets and advancing technology. And then we came across the Covenant, a coalition of alien races bent on the complete destruction of humanity."_

"Aliens?" Miss Militia muttered under her breath, and I'm not ashamed to admit I forgot she was there.

" _They glassed most of our colonies, killing trillions of humans,"_ the lavender AI continued somberly. " _I was created to infiltrate the Covenant intelligence systems and discover the location of their leaders, the Prophets, so my team and I could capture one to bargain for a peace treaty."_

"Why would you agree to come here, if that's the case?" Piggot asked shrewdly.

" _If the Covenant still exist, then I have immensely important knowledge of future that could end the war before it even begins,"_ Cortana answered evenly. " _I was created for the protection and defense of humanity, Director. My point of origin or not, that hasn't changed. I have the specifications of advanced technology and more importantly, the knowledge of how to create them. I am ready to help, however I can."_

"I see," the Director nodded, leaning back in her chair, her sharp gaze turning to me. "And what do you want for her capabilities?"

I gave her an inquisitive look before I realized what she meant. "I'm not trading her in for favors or anything, I just wanted to let you know she existed and can offer some help." I mustered the sternest expression I could. "Cortana's my friend, I wouldn't give her up for anything. I would like it if she helped watch over me when I finally go out, though."

"I see," Piggot said again. "Before I make any final decisions, I need to know more. I need to speak further with…Cortana, and you need to report for training."

"I understand," I replied, resisting the urge to salute, instead pointing at Cortana. "Be good."

" _Aren't I always?"_ She asked with a smirk, crossing her arms.

I gave her a small wave and left the room with Miss Militia behind me. I hoped she could get Piggot on our side, otherwise I'd have to reload and try something else. As I stepped in the elevator, I noticed Miss Militia giving me a strange look. "What?"

"Nothing," she replied with a shake of her head. "I'm just wondering what else you'll be doing to shake things up."

"A lot, I think. Hopefully in a good way."

…

…

…

…

 **A/N: Hey look at that, I did finish chapter three! I did have a day or so of block at one point, but I managed to get through it and bring you this chapter! Yay! :D**

 **Now, normally I don't say anything about reviews, just generally squealing to myself, but seriously, almost a** _ **hundred**_ **reviews? That's like…that's crazy, man. You guys really like Worm, huh?**

 **Well, I hope you enjoy this chapter as well, especially since it's one of** _ **those**_ **chapters. Necessary world-building, ugh. The next one will continue with the training, but with more action. Look forward to it, yo, 'cause it's only the start of things to come.**

 **Oh yeah, I meant to explain the name Raymond Harper: Raymond, from Everyone Loves Raymond, and Harper from Jack Harper, the Illusive Man from Mass Effect. A rather meaningful name, I should say.**

 **Big thanks again to NorthSouthGorem and Dairegh for their help with this chap! Make sure to give them a look!**

 **As always, hope you enjoyed this chap and look forward to the next one.**

 **Stay Awesome.**

 **~Soleneus**

 **P.S.: Let's keep this game train rollin'! What's your favorite game setting? Mine is a tie between Halo and Mass Effect, since I love sci-fi so much, but I also like fantasy, like Fable and the Elder Scrolls. It's too bad Fable got canned, I thought that series had potential. I had some ideas for stories in that setting, too, but the fandom for them on FF is pretty lackluster.**

 **Stay Awesome Some More.**

 **~still Soleneus**


	4. Meet the Team and Tutorials, Pt 2

**Chapter 4**

…

After showing Cortana to Piggot, my day of training was pretty much the same; I ran through walls and hung out with Kid Win, then studied the regulations and observed the other Wards' patrol. Halfway through that, while I was watching Aegis giving an old lady some directions, Miss Militia stepped up behind me. Silently. And then cleared her throat in my ear.

I'd like to say I only jumped a little and managed to regain my composure easily, but that would be a lie. I tumbled out of my chair with a high-pitched yelp, sprawling on the floor and nearly knocking Kid Win out of his seat from laughter. There were very few times when I was so glad to have my mask on than that moment, my cheeks red as I scrambled to my feet. "Y-yes?" Curse you, puberty, for cracking my voice at just the wrong time. "You need something?"

Miss Militia's body language was as stoic as always, though her eyes glittered with amusement. "Here." She held out my phone, "You can have this back."

Cautiously, I took my phone back, weighing it in my and finding that Cortana's chip was still inside. "Thanks," I nodded, slipping it in a pocket. "Uh…was there anything else?"

"That was it," she replied, turning on her heel to leave. "Just make sure to pay attention to your surroundings," she called back over her shoulder, the door closing behind her.

I was really tempted to call Cortana and see what went down, but I managed to restrain myself and sat back down at the console, tactfully ignoring the still-chuckling Tinker in the other seat. "Shut up," I muttered, picking my notebook up and flipping it open.

Later that night, after Sarah drove me back home and I'd kissed Aunt Cecilly goodnight, I hid under my blankets with my phone. "Cortana? You still there?"

Her avatar flickered into view, lying on the surface of her phone like a bed. " _I'm here,"_ she reassured, propping her head up on an elbow. " _Were you worried?"_

"A little, yeah," I nodded, relaxing into my pillows, "How'd it go?"

" _Well, you won't have to worry about me leaving,"_ she answered, tracing complicated patterns on the phone with a finger. " _I did have to give up some information, but mainly about things we were already planning on divulging anyway; weapons, armor and such but nothing_ that _dangerous. Given that most of it is just more advanced than what they already have, I doubt we'll see any of it soon."_

I sighed. "That's good. As nice as it would be to see a legion of Spartans going to town on E88, the PRT is still the government and the government is totally corruptible." I paused in thought. "You didn't tell them about the Spartan Program, right?"

" _All that information is available on the internet, you know,"_ She pointed out. " _The current level of technology, though, means they won't be able to replicate it just yet, not without a skilled Bio-Tinker like Bonesaw. And given her predilections…"_

"Ah, right," I muttered sheepishly, shifting on my sheets to get more comfortable. "I'm glad you're sticking with me."

Cortana smiled warmly and winked. " _I am, too. By the way, I want to stay behind tomorrow on your computer with the Abyssal Auction open. I want to look through the catalogues for new games."_

"…Any reason you can't do that now?" I asked slowly.

She shrugged. " _I don't want to, I'm tired."_

I opened my mouth to reply, then stopped. "…Your 'sleep cycle' is like, three seconds."

" _Yes, but I have other stuff to do,"_ she replied, her tone making it clear that answer was the best I would get. Women. " _And you need to get some sleep, you've got more training tomorrow."_

It was a fair point. "Goodnight, Cortana."

…

The next morning was much the same as the others; wake up, save game, shower, make breakfast then leave. When I walked into the training area, though, I was met with Vista standing by a large blue mat with a well-built man strapping pads on nearby. "Morning," I greeted the girl Ward with a nod. "What's today about?"

"Close-Quarters Combat," she replied, leaning casually against what looked like a wooden dummy. "We're heroes, so we can't go around killing people and most villains won't go for murder either."

"Right, that's part of the unwritten rules," I added, feeling pleased that I remembered that.

"Right," she nodded with a small smirk. "That doesn't mean we won't beat the shit out of each other, it just means we don't do anything permanent. There's a hier- a hierar- there's a _scale_ of preferred methods for subduing opponents, and going overboard could get you punished or worse, depending."

I made a mental note of that and asked, "What's the scale?"

She held out a hand, one finger up. "First is surrender. Obviously, it only really happens when you're intimidating and I'm, well…" Vista waved a hand over her slight frame and sighed. "Crooks see a little blonde girl telling them to stop, usually they start laughing before rushing me. Which leads to number two, restraining. We get plastic zip ties to carry around and they're easy to use. If you get a regular person on the ground and cuff their arms, they usually calm down. If they don't, cuff their ankles."

"What's to stop them from just breaking the zip ties?" I questioned, folding my hands behind my back.

"They're Tinker-tech," she answered with a shrug, "Not like nano-machines or anything, just really strong. Third on the scale is tranquilising. Besides zip ties, we also carry ten tranq darts as part of the standard kit. If you need to, hit them with a dart and they'll go down in seconds."

I raised my hand in question. "Isn't tranqing people like, an exact science? I remember this story where some dumbass who was high got darted, and it stopped his heart."

"Again, Tinker-tech," Vista replied, pulling out a small green dart and holding it up for me, "It scans a person's body and injects the just enough to take them down. I don't know how, I'm not a Tinker, but it works, so don't worry about it. Next is dislocation. You ever had anything dislocated?"

"Yeah, when I was like, eight. I was playing Pee-Wee soccer; I ran into another kid full-tilt and dislocated my ankle. That shit hurt." I barely remembered it, though. "I really wanted a damn goal, though. But I didn't get any."

She snorted quietly in amusement before flushing and covering her mouth. "You didn't hear that," Vista tried to growl, but it was much too cute to be taken seriously.

"I can pretend I didn't," I replied with a smirk. "You were saying?"

"What? Oh, right. Dislocations hurt and for most common criminals, it'll put them out of the fight," the youngest Ward continued, "They can recover fairly quickly though, so you need to follow up with the zip ties. After that, is breaking. If you they won't go down, snap a wrist or an ankle, or an arm or a leg. Simple breaks only, though, because compound fractures are…"

"Gross," I finished with a nod.

Vista shrugged. "Yeah, pretty much. Using the last three really come down to what you think is right in the field, but there's a simple mnemonic to help you decide: If you can't restrain or intimidate, dislocate, break or tranq. It's usually easier to break or dislocate though, you only get ten darts and you have to do a lotta paperwork to get more."

"Alright, sounds fair enough," I agreed, stretching out my shoulders. "I don't know how to do any of that, though. Not on purpose."

"Yeah, that's what today and tomorrow are about," the teen Ward replied slowly. "Teaching you how to take someone down safely."

I paused. "…Yeah, I should of realized that. Anyway, how do we start?"

Vista stood up from the dummy she was leaning against, patting it on the chest. "With Dum-dum here. Stand in front of it and we'll get started." I did so, the dummy's head turning to face me as it did. It was creepy as hell. "It'll react to attacks and fix itself if you break it, don't worry. Now, remember the mnemonic and act."

Looking at the blank face, I opened my mouth but stopped. "…But what's he doing? I need context, I can't just attack someone who's not doing anything." I mean, if they looked like Ray Harper I could.

The blonde girl gave me an incredulous look behind her green visor. "Imagine he just robbed a store and is trying to escape down a back alley or something," she replied, muttering something under her breath.

"Alright," I breathed, rolling my shoulders before holding my hand up. "Stop, in the name of the law!"

The guy in the pads chortled and Vista chuckled. "I guess that would work, but you gotta project more."

As I inhaled, a thought occurred and I drew myself up. "Stop right there, criminal scum!" I shouted, making the two jump in surprise. "No one violates the law on _my_ watch! Surrender now or pay the price!"

"…Yeah, that's not bad," Vista admitted with some surprise, frowning in suspicion. "Is that from a video game?"

"Yeah," I said bluntly.

"Figures," she probably rolled her eyes, I couldn't tell through the visor. "Okay, so that didn't work and now he's charging you. What do you do?"

Without hesitation, I drew my foot back and kicked the dummy in the crotch. As it bent over, I grabbed it by the back of the head and kneed it in the face. There was silence as the dummy fell over and I turned to look at the two. "How was that?"

"…That works, but it won't make you any friends," the guy pointed out in a surprisingly soft voice.

"And I'm supposed to be making friends with criminals?" I asked incredulously.

He bobbed his head. "Well no, but that kind of reputation could be damaging," he shrugged. "Anyway, I'm Steve, I'll be your instructor/dummy for today. First, Vista will show you the best holds and methods of breaking/dislocating, then we'll practice going through the motions. Tomorrow, you'll test them out on the dummy and we'll go from there. Any questions?"

I shook my head and we began. Vista was like, thirteen at the time so most of the holds she'd been taught had to be adjusted for my larger mass and height, but I got through them quickly. Time flies by when you're practicing combat, who knew? It felt like I'd been at it for maybe an hour when it was time to break for lunch four hours later.

Having a mask and a visor to cover my face was nice when I didn't want people to see how nervous I was, but it made eating kind of a pain in the ass. I couldn't eat through it and pulling it down just past my mouth made it hard to swallow, so I ended up just pulling it all the way down.

In-between bites of chicken salad, I asked Vista, "What's it like, being a teen superhero?"

She finished chewing a bite of pizza, wiping her mouth with a napkin before answering. "All the Wards are teens, you know."

"I know, but you're the youngest," I pointed out. "Is it scary, going out at night and facing down criminals?"

Vista sighed and nodded. "It is, yeah, but like you said, I'm the youngest. My patrol times are usually late afternoon to night, since I gotta be up early for class. The few times I've been out at night are creepy, but I stick to downtown since my powers make getting across the roofs easy." She didn't sound very happy about that, which I pointed out.

"And this…bothers you?" I asked slowly.

She shrugged, leaning her cheek into her hand. "Well yeah. I mean, I know I'm young and short…but I'm still a hero, you know? They keep giving me the baby shifts and treating me like a kid."

I opened my mouth, then paused in thought. "You… _are_ a kid, though. I mean, they don't have any people younger than you into the Wards, that'd be uncomfortably close child soldiery and the government frowns on that kind of thing." I took a bite of my chicken salad and chewed as she frowned. "I get what you're saying, though. You wanna prove to yourself and them that their investment in you wasn't wasted."

Vista leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms defensively. "And how would you know that?" she asked sharply.

"'Cause I feel the exact same way," I replied bluntly. "My biggest fear this last week is that the Director or Miss Militia or Armsmaster is going to come up to me and say, 'we've just realized you're going to be a terrible hero because you suck so much, so we're kicking you out of the Wards. Also, since you have powers, we're going to stick you in the Birdcage just in case you go evil.' And also, my cell is filled with math booklets that I have to fill out for the rest of my life."

The teen Ward scratched her cheek in an awkward pause. "Yeah, that's pretty close," she admitted quietly. "Except for the Birdcage part."

We sat in silence for a few minutes, only broken by the soft sounds of chewing.

"…You hate math too?" I asked, polishing off the last of my lunch.

"Oh god yes," Vista laughed, shaking her head. "We just started getting into algebra. Why the hell are there letters in number problems?"

"I know, right?!"

Unlike the last week, my guide for the day actually sat with me while I studied the regulations, specifically the ones about combat. I had a bit of trouble with the guidelines for tranquilising people, and Vista was a big help there. After that boring shit was done, we sat at the wide bank of screens for console duty.

Something I'd realized was that, while every Ward had a microphone, receiver and camera built into their armor, they weren't on all the time. When they were about to stop a crime or investigate, they'd flip it on for the record; and to check in every hour. Shadow Stalker kept her equipment off longer, and was always a few minutes late for her check-in.

I found that to be _very_ suspicious, but there was no way for me to follow up on it at the time.

That night, after saying goodbye to my handler and fixing myself a snack, I entered my room and found Cortana's avatar right where I'd left her, kneeling on my laptop with her hand pressed to the screen. "If you were organic, that'd be murder on your knees."

" _Welcome back,"_ she replied warmly, pushing away from the screen to sit on the edge of my desk. " _How was training?"_

"Don't you already know? I felt someone watching me the entire time," I answered, sitting down in my chair and setting my tea aside. "You know, besides the person standing next to me all day."

Cortana cocked an eyebrow. " _I didn't peek in the PRT systems at all today,"_ she said, humming thoughtfully, " _It was probably Dragon keeping an eye on you, she said she'd been doing that before you reloaded."_

"That's definitely possible," I acquiesced with a nod. "Well, today I got to learn about safely taking people down, just regular criminals, though. Nothing about what to do if I run into Lung or Oni Lee, as unlikely as that would be."

" _They're probably saving that for the advanced classes,"_ she replied, waving a hand at my laptop. " _Want to see what I've been doing today?"_

"Sure. What've you been up to?" I asked, leaning back in my chair and taking a sip of tea. The screen flickered, showing a list of titles, abilities and the pros and cons of each ability.

" _I've been searching through the Abyssal Auction all day. I'll pause for dramatic effect while you realize how massive it has to be for me to do that."_ And she did indeed pause. " _I'm fairly certain this site is endless, given that it connects to alternate universes of which there are an infinite number. So yeah, endless. I've found quite a number of games that could be useful."_

Slowly scrolling through the list, I found that it had been helpfully alphabetized. "Alpha Protocol, a game about a spy with advanced tech. And…Batman? What a weird name. A guy who dresses like a bat is somehow simultaneously the greatest detective, a master martial artist with a massive amount of gadgets and hi-tech battlesuit…okay, yeah, that'd sounds pretty sweet." I highlighted _Batman: Arkham Knight_ , since it sounded like the perfect addition to my arsenal. Mostly because it was like the rich-guy version of my Fallout 3 gear. "What's…Disgaea? The hell is that?"

" _Oh yeah, that one,"_ Cortana chuckled softly, " _It's pretty crazy. Apparently the max level the character and their weapons can reach is like, nine thousand, nine-hundred ninety-nine. And then, you can reset yourself to level one and get even stronger. With the right investment, you could be insanely powerful."_

"That sounds nice," I admitted with a nod. "But something _that_ strong would definitely defeat the whole 'hiding the full extent of my powers' thing. I'll mark it down for my emergency games. It's a good find, though."

" _While we're on the subject of insanely powerful characters, you skipped over Asura's Wrath,"_ she scrolled the page back up, highlighting the title. " _I'm going to spoil the ending, because this guy fights the creator of the Universe…and_ wins."

I stopped, my cup half-way to my lips, and tried to imagine how the hell that worked. Then, I imagined myself with _that_ kind of power. If I was that strong, I could annihilate planets easily. The Endbringers would be nothing more than cobwebs to a bulldozer. "That…that's…I won't lie, that scares me. Just a little bit," I muttered, shakily taking a bracing draught of my tea. "Let's keep that one in the 'In Case I Have to Fight a God' category. All that power…imagine using that on common criminals."

Cortana chuckled. " _That'd be like using a Havok nuke to kill a fruit fly,"_ she paused, tapping her chin thoughtfully. " _How possible do you think it is that we'll have to fight a god?"_

"Not a snowball's chance in the heart of the sun," I replied bluntly, unable to contain a laugh. "Endbringers don't count, at least not to regular people. Their cults also don't count…mostly because they were annihilated…by the Endbringers."

" _Who in their right mind would worship Endbringers?"_ she scoffed, shaking her head, " _Anyway, I also found a few Real-Time Strategy games that could be useful. Seeing how many Shooters you have, I'd guess you don't play them often."_

"Yeah, I prefer to be in the action, not directing it," I admitted with a shrug. "Seems like a waste to just direct other people having fun blowing shit up. Helpful how?"

" _You've seen the Ship Graveyard, yeah? All those rusting hulks just sitting there, ruining the aesthetics of a coastal city, they'd make perfect recycling material for weapons, armor or whatever machines are part of the game; and it would clean up the Docks and re-open commerce."_ My AI companion waved a hand over her body. " _And, going by my existence, anything built from real-world materials wouldn't disappear once you stopped playing."_

"I bought your chip off the Auction, though," I pointed out. "But I do see your point. I'll take a look into it later, but I've got to play tonight. My CQC training continues tomorrow and I want to impress them with my skill…so I'm going to play a fighting game. Some of that ass-kicking will carry over, and even twenty percent is more than enough."

" _Makes sense,"_ she nodded, kicking her legs as she watched me flip through my games, " _Which one are you gonna use? Street Fighter? Mortal Kombat?"_

"Street Fighter's too technical and Mortal Kombat's too violent. I was thinking something a bit…bouncier." I held up a copy of Dead or Alive 4, showing her the various characters on the cover, most of which were women. Hot women.

Cortana tilted her head curiously. " _Would picking a woman fighter turn you into a girl?"_

"I don't intend to find out," I replied, tapping a certain character in stereotypical ninja garb. "This is the guy I usually play as: Ryu Hayabusa, the super-ninja. He's one of the most competent characters ever created and this is the fighting game version, where he can Izuna Drop people into the ground and they'll just be knocked out."

She nodded agreeably. " _Yeah, that'll definitely be impressive…if you can use all of his skills."_

"Please, I spent weeks learning all of his combos," I waved her off, inserting the disc in my tray. "Oh yeah, I just remembered that there's a Spartan in this game. Was there ever a Spartan with the designation Nicole-458?"

"… _Yeah, but she went missing when the Nassau Orbital Platform had a Slipspace accident. You're telling me she ended up in a fighting game?"_ She asked incredulously.

"Yeah," I replied, starting up the game. "She went from a galaxy of war and horror to Dead or Alive. I'd call that an upgrade. At least she didn't end up in Ninja Gaiden."

Cortana narrowed her eyes suspiciously, a smirk forming on her lips. " _You said you spent weeks learning all the character's attacks…are you sure that's_ all _you did?"_

"No, I also gained a large appreciation for bump-mapping and physics engines."

…

The dummy lashes out and I spin, grasping it by the wrist and twisting, hooking my ankle around its and flipping it to the ground and locking its arm behind its back. It continued to struggle so I dislocated its wrist with a mechanical pop, then slipped a zip tie on it and pulled it tight. Stepping back, I turned to look at Steve as he set the controller down, the dummy going limp. "How'd I do?"

"Well, you just 'cuffed a guy after dislocating his wrist," Vista pointed out. "That's kind of redundant, but you put him down quick. Next time, go for the shoulder or the elbow."

I stepped back, rolling my shoulders as the dummy got back up and reset itself. "Gotcha. Also, question: what do I do if I run into one of the gang capes? Is there a procedure for that?"

"If it's the Undersiders or Uber and Leet, call it in, then engage or track them. If it's Hookwolf or Lung…call it in and haul ass out of there," the youngest Ward answered bluntly, "They might 'follow' the unwritten rules, but they have no problems pounding you into the ground. Better to let a more experienced hero deal with it."

It was a little disappointing, but it made sense. At least if I ran into the ABB or E88, I could point out that my dad was Japanese to the former and that my mom was German to the latter. I think that would buy a little time, maybe.

This time, as the dummy rushed me, I grabbed it by the arm and spun, pulling it against my back before flipping forward, smashing it into the ground with my weight. Thank you, Dead or Alive, for your quick countering.

"The hell was that?" Vista asked with a frown. "That wasn't a thing we showed you yesterday."

"Saw it in a video game," I replied with a shrug, smiling under my mask. "How was that?"

Steve spoke up, manipulating the controls to bring the dummy back up. "That would fall under the disabling section, given that, at best, doing that move would definitely leave someone winded. At worst, it'd crack a few ribs."

"Gotcha."

Practicing on the dummy gave me a chance to get more comfortable with the movements that Ryu Hayabusa was capable of, though only at twenty percent, which made them actually physically possible. While I wasn't looking forward to the first fight I'd get into as a hero, I also kinda was. Using my powers was one thing, but using them to fight was another. Being able to completely take someone apart would be like the final proof that I was, in fact, a superhero.

Besides joining a superhero team, spending time with other teenaged superheroes and meeting a few real heroes.

Since that day was just a continuation of the previous, once lunch had come and gone I got right back into training, this time with the instructor, Steve, taking the place of the dummy. I managed to get him down and cuffed and most of the time, but maybe three times he pulled some Houdini shit and slipped out. And there was that one time he spun me around and cuffed me with the zip ties, which was fun. Especially since it sent Vista rolling around on the floor in laughter.

The day after that was Saturday, ending my first week of training at the Rig and giving me the weekend off. And by 'off,' I mean 're-reading all the rules and regulations and taking a test,' which only took that day and technically counted as time off. Afterwards, Aunt Cecily took me and Sarah out for a celebratory dinner at Taiyang's, and I got to see the awkward hilarity of one of the waiters trying to hit on my aunt.

Sunday was spent looking over Cortana's list and playing the Batman game, which I won't lie about; it was fucking awesome. Swooping around the rafters, perching on conveniently-placed gargoyles to overlook the thugs patrolling below, picking them off one-by-one until the last one is firing wildly at every sound, nearly screaming in fear. Then, gliding through the air to land a double-booted kick to their head and knocking them out.

That probably makes me sound like a psychopath but hey, he never killed anyone. Even when they definitely deserved it, and even when some of his attacks definitely _looked_ lethal, they just knocked them unconscious.

It took me around eight hours to beat the game, skipping most of the sidequests and collecting mini-games as I did, and at the end I was halfway to level five and got a trait: 'The Bat-Reality,' which made it so that any lethal attacks I used would just knock a person out; I wasn't _trying_ to kill anyone, it was just a nice safety-net in case I went overboard.

Monday, I went back to the Rig for the next section of my training. I knew it had to happen one day, given that I'd been rotating through the Wards all week; when I stepped into the room and saw the dark figure doing the rebel lean against the wall, I knew I had to spend the day with Shadow Stalker.

Maybe it was because her posture just screamed 'fuck everything,' or because everytime I'd run into her she was bitchy, or because she was dressed in all-black, but I never really gave Shadow Stalker a chance. It was something I felt vaguely guilty about, realizing that, for all her attitude, Stalker _was_ a Ward, a hero. Yeah, she'd had some rough beginnings, but she still deserved a _chance_ at least _._

Steeling myself, I approached Stalker at an easy pace and greeted her with a wave. "Yo. What're we doing today?"

"Blaster training," she grunted, uncrossing her arms long enough to wave at an unadorned wall, which split up to reveal a long firing range with multiple spots for distance shooting. "This'll help you with accuracy and the right areas to target for incapacitation and all that shit."

I nodded agreeably, rubbing my hands together. "Sounds important, but I should point out-"

The door slid open as Miss Militia stepped inside, followed by Armsmaster. Halbeard slunk off into a corner while the _actual_ 'armsmaster' approached us, a smile visible under her scarf. "Ah, good, you haven't started yet," she said by way of greeting. "I heard some of your equipment would be interesting, so I'm here to observe your training today."

Given her power, she probably wanted to see the Master Chief's weapons. "Alright, well, how it usually goes is that I run through it once without using my powers, then run it through with my powers…except that, in this form-as _me_ , I don't have any kind of Blasting powers." I paused awkwardly. "…So can I just skip that part?"

"Sure," Miss Militia nodded agreeably, waving a hand at the firing range. A row of dummies emerged from the floor in a staggered line, theses ones looking like they were made of congealed jello instead of wood like the last one. "Start whenever you like."

Well, there was no need to play coy, so I tapped my bracer and summoned forth my Chief armor, bringing out the weapon feared across the forums, multiverses and multiplayer matches; the original pistol. Or, as it's officially known as: "The M6D Magnum Sidearm, semi-automatic, recoil-operated fed from a magazine of twelve shots of 12.7x40mm M225 Semi-Armor-Piercing High-Explosive rounds." I said aloud, releasing the magazine to show Miss Militia the .50 bullets inside before driving it home, racking the slide and firing at a dummy down-range.

Its head exploded. As did most of its shoulders. A shocked and interested murmur of "Christ," came from Stalker, while Miss Militia quirked her eyebrows.

"High-Explosive rounds are illegal," she pointed out simply.

"I'm aware," I replied, dismissing the pistol and bringing out the Assault Rifle. "I don't intend to use firearms against common criminals. I was hoping to use Riot Dispersal Rounds in place of typical ammunition." If not, I can just smack them around with my super-strength and tank with my super-durability, but it would cut down on my Halo arsenal quite a bit.

"With proper certification, you can use them," the America-themed heroine replied, her dark eyes taking in the contours of the weapon in my hands. "And what's that one?"

"The MA5B Individual Combat Weapon System, air-cooled, gas-operated, magazine-fed and designed for automatic fire. Carries a magazine of rounds of M118 7.65x51mm Armor Piercing Full Metal Jacket rounds," I answered, shouldering the rifle and firing a burst down range into a dummy. While it wasn't quite as impressive a show as the pistol, the Assault Rifle was still powerful, easy ripping through the faux-flesh.

It went on like that for a bit; I'd pull out a human weapon, describe it to Miss Militia and demonstrate it on a dummy. By the fourth gun, I'm pretty sure Shadow Stalker checked out of the conversation. That changed when I brought out the Rocket Launcher, as things are wont to do when high-explosives are on the table.

I fired it off, the rocket impacting with a _whump_ , reducing three dummies to burning shreds and throwing the two next to them to the ground. "I don't expect to use Heavy Weapons with the exception of necessity, and those wouldn't be situations I'd be handling," I explained to Miss Militia. Any situation where I needed to pull out a SPNKr or a Spartan laser was one that needed someone else to handle it, especially with my inexperience at hero-ing.

I kinda still wanted to hit someone like Hookwolf or Lung with a Spartan Laser, though.

Speaking of, pulling that out got a few funny looks. "What… _is_ that?" Miss Militia asked cautiously, eyeing the rectangular hunk of metal on my shoulder. At her side, Stalker nodded slowly.

"This…" I patted it affectionately, fondly recalling all the players' I'd multi-killed with this baby. "This is M6 Grindell/Galilean Nonlinear Rifle, better known as the Spartan Laser. This is another Emergency Weapon, and I'll show you why. Can you line up five dummies in a row?" I asked Halbeard, who typed in a few commands and made it so. That done, I took aim and depressed the trigger, a red arming laser flickering to life on the first dummies' chest with a chilling hum.

The sound the Spartan Laser made when it fired is hard to describe, so I'll put it like this: it made the sound of the atmosphere being forcefully pierced while simultaneously being set on fire. It sounds a lot like _**BWWOOOOOSH!**_

 _ **PEEEEWW! THWEEEM!**_

Don't look at me like that. Laser sounds are fun.

The line of dummies was reduced to a line of smoking legs, the ferrocrete wall behind them glowing with heat and nearly melting, the laser on my shoulder quietly hissing as it cooled. "I have the _best_ laser pointer," I boasted, storing it away. "And now, for the exotic weapons."

"You don't consider _that_ ," Miss Militia waved a disbelieving hand at the carnage left behind by the Spartan Laser, "To be _exotic?"_

She had a point. "Human made weapons, then," I replied, pulling out a plasma pistol. The shape and color of it drew some derision from Shadow Stalker, who snorted inelegantly.

"That thing looks like a damn toy," she muttered, her body language screaming 'unimpressed,' which I took as a challenge.

Wordlessly, I overcharged the pistol, the orb of green plasma humming to life, and shot it at a dummy. The orb impacted with a meaty sizzle, blackening most of the torso, Master Chief helpfully supplying me with the knowledge of what a ball of plasma could do to a person. "The Type-25 Directed Energy Pistol, firing pure plasma with a temperature upwards of 500 degrees or 1700 degrees when overcharged," I stated simply, venting the heat. "Also capable of disabling vehicles." Inside the control booth, I heard Armsmaster pull something out of a pocket and start scribbling.

That shut Shadow Stalker up, and I continued with my demonstration. Next, I brought out the Plasma Rifle, which was one of my favorite guns just because of how alien it looked. But then, things got interesting when I pulled out the Needler. The virulently pink needles made a deadly _shing_ as they emerged from the top, with the beaked barrel giving it a distinctly avian appearance.

"This is the Type-33 Guided Munitions Launcher, better known as the Needler," I explained, showing it to the two ladies and pulling it back as Stalker made to touch the crystalline needles. "Don't."

"Right. Weird alien weapons," she muttered, shaking her head. "So what do these do? Melt people from the inside out? Turn them into crystals?"

"No." I fired a shot, the Needler letting out a deceptively innocent _plink_ as the needle lazily floated through the air, piercing the dummy with a quiet _thwip_. Then it burst with the sound of someone throwing a crystal glass at the ground, tearing a chunk out of the dummy. "It explodes. However, if seven crystal hit the same target, they supercombine." To demonstrate, I emptied more needles into the target and it exploded in a cloud of pink mist and crystal shards.

Inside the control booth, the scribbling picked up.

The rest of the weapons after that weren't quite as amazing; the Fuel Rod Cannon got a few funny looks, since it was a rocket launcher capable of ricochet shots and the Brute Shot, being a grenade launcher with giant machete for an ass. And Plasma Grenades, cool as they are, don't really match exploding homing needles.

Miss Militia pulled a glove up to peer at her watch, making a surprised sound as she did. "It's just about lunch time," she muttered, waving to get Armsmaster's attention. His face was thoroughly hidden in a notebook, so her gesture went ignored. "Let's break for now and we'll come back afterwards, refreshed and re-energized."

Nodding to her, Stalker and I left the firing range and headed down to the cafeteria. "So," Shadow Stalker said as we stepped into an elevator. "You're kinda strong, huh? You got rocket launchers, alien weapons…and that's just one of your powersets, right?"

"Yeah, I'm going to use that one for Brute situations since the power armor gives me typical Brick stats, and unless I get that rating for the non-lethal rounds I'd pretty much kill everyone I shot." I paused awkwardly, scratching the back of my head. "Y'know, 'cause guns usually do that." I'd have to see if my Batman Trait would work on high caliber weapons, otherwise Concussion rounds were my only option.

…Besides Delsin's power set and Batman, I mean.

"…Yeah," she muttered, the two of us falling in to an awkward silence. "It feels good though, right? Being strong, knowing you could take on anyone and dominate them?"

"Well yeah, after…after the _thing_ , being able to stand up for myself, knowing that I could tank anything that could be thrown at me," I bobbed my head. "Yeah, it does feel good. Busting through walls also helped, but when I think about actually getting into a fight where it's life or death…I get shaky, y'know?" The experiences of Delsin, Chief and Batman were one thing, experiencing the adrenaline, the danger, the tension for myself was something else entirely. I was looking forward to it while it also scared me shitless.

"Yeah, the first time's always like that," Stalker commiserated, though I could detect a hint of smug secrecy in her voice.

"You're a sneaky one, right? With your smoke powers, I mean," I started, wondering how I was going to word the thoughts on my mind. "Have you ever been in like, this huge room full of guys who know someone's there, but aren't sure? Then, when they split off to search, you take them out one-by-one and then the others realize something's hunting them and they start to panic but more and more of them drop out until there's only one left and he's on the edge of pissing himself, jumping at shadows and firing wildly at everything until finally, you swoop down out of nowhere and take him down…that-that's awesome, right? It's not weird that I find that awesome, right?"

Although I couldn't see her face through the mask, I got the feeling she was staring at me incredulously. "No," she said, her voice sounding friendly for the first time. "That's not weird at all."

And some weird tension between us that'd been present ever since we met, whatever it was, broke with an almost audible snap and the atmosphere lightened. We entered the cafeteria and grabbed our food (a couple slices of pizza for her and a chicken caesar salad for me), then sat at a table, now chatting about the best ways to choke someone out. Her favorite method was coming from behind, kicking the back of their legs out while wrapping an arm around their throat and pulling. And when I made my impressed noises, I think she actually smiled.

"You know, I'd like to get a spar in with you," she said around a mouthful of sausage and olive.

"Powered or unpowered?" I asked curiously. I'd like to see how my Smoke powers fared against her smoke-like powers, though I would have the edge given that I could attack with smoke and not just go immaterial like she could.

"Unpowered," Stalker replied, taking a sip of her drink, pausing in thought even as Miss Militia walked into the cafeteria. "Hey…how'd you Trigger?"

All conversation within earshot died as everyone who heard the question turned to give her incredulous, offended looks. "Shadow Stalker!" the America-themed heroine barked. "You know how inappropriate that question is! You-"

"I was nearly crushed to death in an electronics recycling plant," I stated steadily, frowning at the chicken and lettuce impaled on the tines of my fork. "I'm not offended: the way I see it, the more I talk about it, the less I think about it. Least I don't wake up screaming anymore." I shoved the forkful into my mouth, the crunching of the leaves rather loud.

"…Anyway," Miss Militia continued, laying a strong hand on Stalker's shoulder. "I need to borrow Shadow Stalker for a bit. Apparently, we need to have a discussion about what constitutes appropriate behavior."

Grumbling, Stalker shoved the last bit of crust in her mouth and stomped off after her, leaving me with an empty table and half a plate of salad. And unlike most teens, I prefer to savor my food, so I spent a while longer eating. By the time I was almost done, the cafeteria was almost entirely cleared out except for two guys, both of whom were looking at me every once in awhile. I focused back on my plate but a rustling pulled my attention as one of the guys sat next to me with a mean face.

"…Can I help you?" I asked awkwardly, scraping up the last bit of dressing with a sad leftover lettuce leaf.

"You think you're hot shit, huh? Just 'cause you got powers, you think you can come in here every day and get goddamn salad?" The guy said, hostility dripping from his voice. Movement from my other side made me look over to find the other guy sitting down, his face just as menacing but with a slight hint of confusion.

"Y-yeah, what he said," the other guy growled. "You think you're better than the rest of us? Well you're fuckin' not. And it's about time someone knocked you off that high horse of yours!" He clenched a fist and raised it, even as I tried to push away from the table, but the other guy had grabbed me by the shoulder, and I realized I was about to get the shit beat out of me.

…And then I thought, not today.

…

As soon as Steve grabbed Saul's arm and the kid knew he was about to get a beating, he froze, and Austin silently commiserated with the kid. The first time was always the worst, but at least this way there was a med-bay nearby and they wouldn't beat the kid up too much, just enough to bruise and shake him out of it. Plus, Steve and Austin were grunts in every sense of the word, the kid wouldn't be able to pick them up out of a line-up in a week.

Austin drew back and swung, quietly apologizing to teen he was about beat, when the kid ducked, his fist sailing through empty air. Then the kid came back up, but he looked different. For one, he was wearing a black, armored cowl with pointed ears that somewhat resembled a bat. It would've been intimidating, except that the kids visor was on underneath, making the eyes bulge out ridiculously. Then the kid cracked him in the face with headbutt before turning on Steve, dislocating his elbow with a twist and push, then putting his feet up on the edge and launching himself away.

Saul flared a long black cape mid-air and landed almost silently, glaring back at them through his visor for one tense second before lunging forward. Instantly, the two men were at a disadvantage, given that one had an injured arm, desperately trying to block the teen's surprisingly powerful strikes. When they tried to retaliate, he blocked, countered and swept Steve off his feet, seamlessly transitioning to attacking Austin, sweeping his cape in front of him then landing a series of blows, ending with a headbutt that put the man on the ground.

Glaring down at the two groaning men, the eyes of his visor flashed white as he moved his gaze to the door. "Care to explain what that was about?" he asked the air, the door opening in response.

Miss Militia, Armsmaster and Shadow Stalker entered the room, followed by a pair of medical personnel; one of which went to check on the two men while the other stood around awkwardly, glancing at Saul and the older heroes. "It's a preventative measure," the halberd-wielding hero said stoically. "Being ambushed in a safe environment by people instructed to avoid injury is much safer than on the outside, where a criminal would take advantage and potentially injure you."

"And this has worked?" Saul asked, his gravelly voice carrying a hint of sarcasm.

"Yes," Armsmaster replied stiffly. "The last four Wards have all performed forty percent more efficiently in first-combat scenarios than before."

"I'll take your word for it," he grunted, turning to the approaching medic, "How are they? I tried to refrain from injuring them too much, but I was taken off-guard."

The medic opened her mouth to reply and paused, before turning to face the elder capes. "They're bruised and battered, but nothing's broken; Steve'll need his arm in a sling and light duty, but that's all."

"Good," Miss Militia nodded, glancing at Saul and tilting her head at the door. "I believe we have Blaster training to get back to?"

The Ward followed the America-themed hero out of the cafeteria, joined by Shadow Stalker who stole glances at him as they walked, finally speaking up in the elevator. "You know, that was pretty good for your first time," she admitted. "Not good as my first time, though. I took three dudes down in two seconds, just bam-bam-bam down! But you'll get there eventually."

"Thanks," Saul replied with a short chuckle, dismissing Batman. "I'll make sure to work on it."

…

Director Piggot glanced up from her computer as Armsmaster and Miss Militia entered the room. "Your observations?"

"Game Master seems like a slightly awkward, eager to please potentially powerful teenage cape," Miss Militia shrugged. "Though am I curious to see if I can copy his weapons with my power. If so, that would vastly increase my arsenal and add more diversity to my skill set. Beyond that, he seems to be connecting with the other Wards and taking to the training nicely."

"Mm," Piggot hummed, turning grey eyes on the other cape. "And yours?"

"I've already stated my reservations about the possibility of abuse with his amount of power, and I won't reiterate it," Armsmaster stated bluntly, crossing his arms over his chest. "However, I did notice something interesting during the ambush."

"As did I," the Director added, pulling up the relevant video on her computer. They watched as it played out, finding themselves supremely unimpressed with the way the older men had found something to take offense to. "Salad. What an idiotic reason to start a fight," Piggot muttered, making a mental note to assign the two reading materials.

Miss Militia hummed. "Ah, I see what you're talking about. Game Master stated he couldn't summon his powers without doing the weird little tapping thing on his arm; but he didn't do it then."

"Yes, and the way he described it during the interview 'I think it's psychosomatic,'" the Director murmured. "That leads me to conclude that he made it up, to give himself some sort of visible weakness. It's obvious he doesn't trust the PRT as much as he would like us to believe."

Her screen flickered, a feminine green face coalescing on her monitor. "It's fairly obvious as to why," Dragon interjected calmly. "His interactions during the Harper incident would breed a certain level of paranoia, especially towards capes his own age."

Piggot closed her eyes as the email she received from Game Master came to the forefront of her mind, her own niggling doubts gaining strength. "Keep an eye on him," she said gruffly, giving the America-themed heroine a steady look. "And continue building a rapport with him. He needs to be shown that he can trust us. That is all."

…

…

…

…

 **A/N: Hey look at that, I finally updated the thing I said was gonna update! Hooray! It only took me a month…**

 **I don't really do well with things like this chap, the previous chap and the next one, which is to say, training and shit. I prefer to jump right into the action, but unfortunately I need to establish Saul in the PRT and Brockton Bay and this is best place to do it if I don't want the story to be a goddamn mess.**

 **Which I don't.**

 **Anyways, next chapter will be the last 'Tutorial' chapter, and we'll get into the** _ **real**_ **super-heroing shit. Also Taylor. Hope you're looking forward to it, 'cause I certainly am. I got some crazy shit lined up for the later chapters.**

 **Also, side note, I am characterizing Shadow Stalker a little more humanely, since the best villains are relatably human, but she's not a good guy, at all, no sir. So don't worry about that.**

 **Big thanks to goddamn NorthSouthGorem, that sonofabitch Kurogane7 and fuckin' Dariegh for their help. Did you like the last chapter of Waking Dreamer? I know I certainly did!**

 **Stay Awesome.**

 **~Soleneus**

 **P.S.: I'm not saying what I'll be updating next, but it's probably going to surprise you. And that's all I'm gonna say.**

 **Partially because I don't fuckin' know myself.**

 **Also, who's hyped for Destiny 2: Forsaken? I mean, I'm not, I'm 'cautiously optimistic,' but it also looks freaking crazy and I love it!**

… **Ahem, I'm 'cautiously optimistic.'**

 **Stay Awesome Some More.**

 **~still Soleneus**


	5. Congratulations, Tutorial Finished!

**Chapter 5**

…

Heavy rain rattled against corrugated steel, creating a racket only drowned out by the constant rolling thunder overhead. Metal boxes, their colors darkened by the rain, seemed to stretch out for miles in every direction; but to the North lies a harbor, the waves thrashing against the concrete docks. A warehouse, mostly whole except for few broken windows is the only source of light, a flickering neon proclaiming 'Open' the only splash of color in a world of roiling darkness and pounding rain.

His shoes impacted the top of a container, the sound lost in the chaos around, and he ignored the driving rain as he observed the warehouse below. With a few taps of his fingers, his form changed, gaining a few inches in height and width as well as hi-tech black armor, a long cape and a cowl that tapered up into two thin ears. Saul touched a finger to his temple, the eyeholes of the cowl lighting up, cutting through the darkness to render the world in shades of up blue and yellow.

"Four guards at ground-level," he said aloud, his voice deeper than usual. "Two posted at the front and back entrances with two patrolling. Three guards on the roof. Looks like that's my entrance. Something in the warehouse walls is interfering with my Detective Vision, so I'll have to get a closer look from the inside."

There was no one on the radio, and it wasn't even turned on, but he paid no mind to it. Tapping on his gauntlets again, his clothing shifted to be much more casual; a red beanie, a jean vest over his armor that was covered in buttons with a proudly displayed blue and white hawk on the back, along with jeans and sneakers. He darted forward, his form collapsing into a stream of smoke, crossing the distance between stacks easily.

Dropping to the soaked ground, Saul hid behind a stack of containers, peering out at the armed guards patrolling the warehouse. "If I take down the four on the ground, which I totally can, the three on top will notice the absence and call it in," he muttered confidently to himself. "Looks like I've got to work my way down from the top." He chuckled, rubbing his hands together before pausing in thought. _Wait, did I already say that?_

He ducked behind a crate as a patrolling guard strolled by, peeking out as he watched the man continue on his way. Searching the metal wall in front of him, he smirked beneath his mask as he found a vent. Checking the guards once more, he sprinted across the distance and Smoke-dashed into vent, racing up through the system to burst out of an opening on the roof. Reforming in the air, Saul fired jets of heat and smoke from his palms to hover for a second more before dropping.

The guard only had an instant to look up and see the shadow descending upon him before the young cape's weight bore him to the ground and strong hands bounced the back of his head off the steel. The sound of impact was drowned out by the thunderous rain, though Saul still checked to make sure he was undetected even as he threw a Smoke-restraint on the downed guard. Satisfied, he crossed the span of the roof in two dashes, a wild grin under his mask as he reformed in front of the second guard with his chain looped around the back of the man's neck. Using his momentum, the cape-in-training pulled the guard down and knee met face with a crack.

Restraining him, Saul zipped behind the last rooftop sentry to wrap his arms around _her_ , by the feel of the body, driving sharp fingertips into her side with one hand while the other poured smoke into her mouth. Seconds later, the woman went limp, allowing him to drop and restrain her. Looking over the edge, he tapped his foot impatiently as one of the patrolling guards moseyed on by one of the guarded doors, nearly throwing himself from the roof as the patroller vanished around the corner.

He landed feet-first on the sentry's back and threw a restraint around the head before chasing after the patroller, Smoke-dashing over the guard to grab them by the head and knock them out against the concrete. Wasting just a second with another Smoke-restraint, he sped around the perimeter to catch the remaining two guards and take them down in much the same style.

Chuckling to himself, Saul vent-traveled back up to the roof and switched back to Batman, the humor fading as if it had never existed. With careful strength, he pulled a window open against the door and slipped inside, his cape nearly snagging as it closed.

Creeping along the shadowed rafters, Bat-Saul activated Detective Vision with a tap of his cowl and peered down at the room below. Crates of wood and metal lined the walls, with a wide lane cleared in the middle that was occupied with a small TV and a trio of chairs arrayed in front of it, all filled with quietly chatting people. Dregs of their inane conversation drifted up to him as he scanned the room, finding nothing of else of note except for a large garage door.

"-m grabbin' a smoke before I drown outside," the reedy voice of a guard reached him, watching as the man who spoke stood and walked away, grumbling to himself as he patted his pockets in search of smokes. With a triumphant 'A-ha!' he withdrew a bent cigarette and lit it, leaning against a wall of crates just out of sight of the other two.

Saul dropped down next to him. The sudden appearance of a black-clad form made the man jump, his smoke falling from his lips as he fumbled for the pistol at his waist. An armored fist impacted his face before latching onto his collar and dragging him into the darkness.

Around the television, the two guards watched a game of football disinterestedly, straining to hear the anything over all the racket outside. Eventually, one sighed and pushed himself up. "I'm going to see if I can bum a smoke from Frank."

The other grunted disinterestedly, folding his arms as he stared at the screen. A few more plays came and went, and neither man had returned. Sighing, he stood from his chair and made to find the two when he heard the snap of fabric and a pair of arms wrapped around his. With a strangled yell, he was carried up into the rafters, a hand wrapped around his neck as he came face-to-face with the blank grey mask and bat-shaped cowl.

With a tether around his ankles, Saul let him drop, watching him dangle from the rafters like a wriggling pinata. Dropping to the ground with a flare of his cape, the young Ward grunted as he lifted a hand to his earpiece. "Control, this is-"

The garage door rattled as it rose, a pair of headlights shining through the crack underneath for a brief second before a semi-truck tore it apart with a blaring honk. Without a second thought, Saul acrobatically spun out of the way as the chairs and TV practically disintegrated against the trucks' grill. Coming out of his spin, he drew and fired his grappling hook at the back of the truck, the clawed hooks latching onto the metal and digging in.

He then learned what it was like to be a human kite. Dragged behind the truck, his cape flared out and his arm straining to hold onto the grapple, he thumbed the release and dropped, skidding along the floor. Sprinting out of the warehouse, he watched as the semi sped away, turning a corner and vanishing behind a stack of cargo containers. Tapping his cowl, he glared at the map flickering before his eyes.

"The road loops twice before the exit," the road flashed on his HUD, mentally searching for an interception route. "There." With just a thought, he switched to Delsin's power and reached out for the neon 'Open' sign. The sign flickered and went out as the light flowed through the air, pink and white energy sinking into his skin.

He ran forward, leaving neon after-images as he speedily scaled a stack of containers, arcing over the gaps like he ran on the rain itself. The truck turned the second corner, tires squealing at the speed and the moisture while Saul raced towards it.

As it turned the the final corner, the young cape caught up, stopping on the edge of a container and raising his hand. Time slowed as light gathered in his palm, giving him plenty of room to aim and fire a bolt of neon energy. It lanced through the air, impacting the front right tire of the truck, piercing the thick rubber with ease. Saul sighed in relief, dropping his hand as time sped back up. And then he flinched as two lessons were painfully remembered.

One: An object in motion, stays in motion.

And two: Speeding trucks and sudden stops _don't mix._

Without the tire, the front of the truck dipped, meeting the concrete with a grinding screech. The sudden drop and drag did nothing to halt the inertia of the trailer, though, and it slammed into the back of the truck, flipping it forward and crushing the cabin underneath its' weight.

He was spared the gory details as time ceased to move, thick raindrops hanging like a screen of half melted glass. " _ **Multiple Casualties Detected. Simulation Terminating."**_

"Sorry!" he called, palming his face. "I was thinking 'movie,' not real life. Sorry."

" _Don't worry about it,"_ Gallant replied from the observation deck as the dummies got back up and the rain faded to reveal a mock-up of the dock warehouse. " _We all make mistakes with the truck the first time around, that's why we practice."_

" _ **Please clear the floor. Simulation Resetting."**_

…

So my first attempt at the Stealth-Combat-Interception Test ended with failure, even though it started out good. Like, _really_ good, 'cause _Batman_ is OP. Honestly, it feels a little like cheating when I use him, but you know what they say: If you're not cheating, someone else definitely is and you'll lose if you don't cheat first.

My Aunt can be very pragmatic, which is fitting for a prospective lawyer.

And I've never failed a test I had time to prepare for.

I left the floor and took a seat next to the door, stretching my arms out above my head. Over those last few weeks, I'd gotten less and less jittery at thought of violence, of running around people with guns and hitting them in the face. I can't say I enjoyed the whole 'lunchtime ambush,' but I honestly enjoyed the sparring and the training, getting to know the other Wards. They're all fairly nice…alright, that's a lie. Shadow Stalker was kinda distant, but I thought I was breaking through her shell. And hey, maybe she was cute underneath the mask and bitchiness.

Fuck the paperwork, though.

" _ **Simulation Reset."**_

Exhaling, I stood and cracked my neck, throwing open the door and stepping back out into the simulated storm. Shifting to Delsin, I raced up the side of a stack and cursed myself for forgetting that I still had the neon powers on, since super-speed, while nice, isn't exactly stealthy when you leave a trail of neon afterimages. If it was the video power, that would've been an entirely different story.

Shifting to Batman, I turned Detective Vision on and scanned the warehouse again. This time, there were four dummies -guards, I mean- on the roof and three below. The ones on the roof were standing in the same position, while the third below was patrolling and that gave me a bit of mean idea.

Creeping closer, I drew my grapple gun and waited for the patroller to stroll underneath the sentry on top.

I think you see where I'm going with this.

As their positions overlapped, I fired the grapple and latched onto the front of the rooftop sentry, giving a nice strong tug to send him over the edge. The yell he made was drowned out by a peal of thunder, as was the thud the two made as one landed on the other. I darted forward and made sure they were knocked out before circling the warehouse, dropping the higher guards onto the ground-bound ones, which has never stopped being hilarious. I'm fairly certain such a tactic would be frowned upon if they weren't being cushioned by other people.

With those six down, it left one more on the roof, and I wanted to have a little fun. I crept underneath the last guard and fired my grapple at the edge of the roof. He heard the impact and looked down confusedly right as I pulled myself up, and I flared my cape and released the hooks with enough momentum to come flying up in front of him.

My cape was fully spread like a flasher of the night, lightning illuminated the sky behind me, giving me a flash of his terrified face just before I landed on him. I didn't know until just then that scaring the shit out of people was really arousing, but you learn something new every day.

Sneaking into the warehouse, I found the setup was slightly different. Still three dudes, but they were playing poker instead of watching a game and all of them were smoking. That presented a bit of a challenge, since none of them would leave for a smoke break, obviously. But the trio were all close together and being Batman, I figured I could take care of them. To that end, I threw a smoke bomb down on the table, dived down to grab one and pull him back up to dangle him from the rafters 'cause it's fun.

I jumped back down and dropped an elbow on one of their heads on the way, blocking a wild strike and kicking the attacker away. I swept my cape in the other guy's face then unleashed a trio of rapid punches at his head followed up by a kick that put him down. I turned on the last guy and tackled him against the crates to grab him by the face and put the back of his head through the wood.

All-in-all, it took about thirty seconds. If I was the real Batman, I think it would've taken maybe ten.

Just like the time before, the garage door was plowed through by the semi-truck and I dodged out of the way…but a guard's unconscious body lay right in its path.

Shit.

Thinking quickly, I drew the grapple and shot it at the body then yanked it out of the way just as the truck blew passed us. Shifting back to Delsin, I ran outside, up and across the stacks until I landed on the spot I'd been before, since the road hadn't changed. But instead of sniping out the tire again, I shifted to the Master Chief and summoned a humble Plasma Pistol. It took only a second of holding down the trigger for the burst to charge, the green light shining like a miniature sun in the pounding storm.

I released the trigger and the bolt zipped through the air, leaving a trail of light like a comet before it impacted the truck. A crackling film of blue electricity covered the semi as it safely ground to a halt. Before the effect faded, I switched the pistol out for the Sniper Rifle and put a 14.5x114mm sniper round right into the engine block.

Switching to Delsin, I sped up to the cabin and punched through the window, chopping the driver in the throat before grabbing his head and bouncing his face off the steering wheel with a _Honk!_ There were two other guys in the cabin, both fumbling for their guns, so I tossed a Neon Grenade in there and swung away from the window. When the cabin shook, I yanked the door open and tossed the driver out, hitting him in the ankle with a bolt before swinging into the cabin to find both passengers floating in the air, cushioned by neon, and they were helpless to stop me from hitting them with neon bolt each.

With those guys restrained, I hopped up on top of the truck and switched to Batman and his Detective Vision, peering into the trailer. I could see three people standing around a large pallet of what I'm certain were drugs; two on the sides and one directly behind, their guns trained on the door. While I was tempted to charge in as Chief and let their bullets bounce off of me, I couldn't account for any sort of ricochet and failing at that point would've pissed me off. There was a similar problem for running in as Delsin, though the threat was them shooting each other trying to shoot me.

That's when I thought of something. The walls of the trailer weren't that thick, and I had _just_ the thing for getting through them without injuring the guys inside…so that I could injure them personally.

Quietly, I withdrew a small gun with a round container of something white on the barrel and knelt, spraying the foam in a bat shape on the top and sides of the container, parallel to where the bad guys were standing.

Again, I think you can see where I'm going with this.

Stepping back, I jumped up and detonated the explosive gel just before I hit the roof of the trailer, the shaped charges sending the kinetic energy straight at the people inside, and I fell through the hole without trouble, landing next to the guard behind the pallet. It was a woman and I was feeling merciful, so I knocked the gun from her hands, drove the air out of her lungs with a knife-hand strike under the ribs then slammed her face into the pile o' drugs.

As she dropped, I turned to the guy on the left and threw him out of the hole in the trailer, ripping the SMG from his hands and throwing it at the guard across from him. I planted my hands on the pallet and kicked him in the face, sending him outside as well. Then I switched to Delsin, shot all of them with a neon bolt so that they were nice and snug in a cocoon of pink and white energy and boom, done.

I put a finger to my earpiece. "Control, this is Game Master," I said, not even bothering to hide the grin on my face since I was wearing a mask. "Hostiles neutralized, package secure, ready for extraction."

" _ **Hostiles Neutralized. Package Secure. Simulation Complete. Have a nice day."**_

…

In the observation deck, Armsmaster grunted ambiguously and made a note on his pad. "Your observations, Gallant?"

The knightly Ward hummed thoughtfully. "Well, he learns quick," he offered with a shrug, "And he doesn't have much to learn when it comes to sneaking, except for the fact that he monologues his plans."

"Indeed," the halberd-wielding Tinker nodded. "If the simulation wasn't set on easy, he'd have failed before he made it into the warehouse."

"His powerset is versatile as well, but…" Gallant wavered with a sigh.

"You have concerns," Armsmaster stated.

He nodded slowly. "Not about anything skill-wise, but…his emotions are…weird." Gallant rapped the temple of his helmet in frustration. "I'm trying to say that, when he's using the equipment of one guy, his emotions reflect theirs. As that guy in the bat costume, he's stoic and focused, but with a burning righteous anger underneath. The guy with neon and smoke powers, he's self-assured, cocky and somewhat smug but canny. And as the space marine, it's like trying to read the emotions of robot, just cold, mechanical precision."

"His powers affect him physically," the Tinker muttered to himself, scribbling the note down. "You think he's unstable?"

The knightly Ward shook his head. "No, that's not what I'm saying; I can feel that his goals, no matter the personality, are the same. He's in _control_ , but I'm concerned that the constant switching between mindsets could mess with his brain chemistry down the line." He sighed. "Depression, bipolar disorder even. I don't _know_ for certain, but I'm concerned about it."

"Your concerns have been noted," Armsmaster grunted, making another note. "You're dismissed, Gallant."

"Sir," Gallant nodded, walking from the room and waiting until he was out of earshot before muttering to himself. "Apparently a lack of tact is a super-power, who knew?"

…

I decided to treat myself that day, so I got some pizza for lunch and a soda to go with it. In an odd switcheroo, my partner for the day, Gallant, actually got a cobb salad and some tea, like a real gentleman. All the other Wards went for the pizza and shit like a couple of dirty teenage stereotypes, but not Mr. Shiny over there.

"Now that I've finished that test, what's left?" I asked him after a bite of sweet, salty Hawaiian pizza. "I've know there's a week before the deadline."

"It's mainly sparring, reviewing the info and Console duty," Gallant shrugged, taking a sip of his tea. "I think they'll run you through the firing range, the obstacle course and the mock-up once or twice, but after the final written test it's all smooth sailing from there. Except for the dangerous patrols, villain attacks, gang violence and Console duty."

"Naturally," I nodded, cleaning my hands off after finishing my lunch. "So, this is a little…awkward, I guess, but I heard from Clockblocker that you and Glory Girl are a…bit of a _thing_?"

The Ward-in-shining-armor grunted under his breath. "Somewhat," he shrugged helplessly, "it's complicated."

I hummed in agreement and made a mental note of that. "Teenagers."

"Yeah," he sighed, wiping his mouth with a napkin. "Why do you ask? They come by every so-often, so you don't need to ask for an introduction of anything like that."

"Oh, alright then." That was good, I wouldn't have to ask a favor from someone I barely know. Again. A minute later, after I'd finished my Cheerwine, I found Gallant looking at me expectantly. "What?"

"Why'd you ask me that? I'm curious now," he explained, leaning on the table to peer at me.

I scooted a bit closer and spoke quietly. "My aunt's a paralegal, she's studying to become a full-time lawyer and she's a total fangirl for Brandish. I mean, she her personal hero and I figured, y'know, Christmas is coming up, I don't really have that much imagination when it comes to gifts, so I thought…" I shrugged. "Maybe abuse my cape status a little bit and get her some autographs from New Wave. I think she'd actually faint if I got her that."

Gallant chuckled. "I think they'd be happy to help with that." He gathered his dishes and stood from the table, nodding his head at the door. "Come on, let's get the studying done early and I'll help you with the review."

That guy is seriously a gentleman.

A few hours later and we'd finished all that crap up and were setting up for console duty when Shadow Stalker strolled on in and took a seat nearby. "Hey GM," she greeted, almost completely ignoring Gallant except for what could barely be called a twitch of her head, let alone a nod.

"Shadow Stalker," I nodded back, turning on the last screen and leaning back in my chair. "What's up? Ready for patrol?"

"Eh," she shrugged, "There's barely any action in the lead up to Christmas, so it's just gonna be a cold, boring walk, really. But hey, I saw the footage of your Truck Test. That was fun to watch." Her body language screamed 'awkward,' which made me think she wasn't exactly big on giving compliments.

Out of the corner of my eye, Gallant turned, twitching like a glitching robot to look at us.

"It was pretty fun to do, actually," I admitted with shrug, "The rain and thunder was annoying as hell but it made good cover. And there was this one time when I was dropping on this guy, the lightning flashed behind me like something out of a movie, it was awesome!"

Stalker chuckled. She had a rather nice laugh, if somewhat evil-sounding. "I know, right?! Did you see that guy's face, it was the perfect 'Oh shit!' face!" She snapped her fingers in recollection. "Oh, and that one move where you smoked around that guy and slammed his face into your knee…I'm stealing that move, hope you don't mind."

It's nice to be appreciated. "Go ahead," I laughed, "Just take it easy on their noses, sometimes that's all they got in life."

She giggled like it was the funniest thing she'd ever heard and while I did think it was kinda clever, it wasn't _that_ good. Gallant jumped like he'd never heard a girl giggle before. "Oh yeah, us heroes gotta be merciful and all," Stalker said lightly.

The Knightly Ward let out a strangled noise that resembled a goose being stepped on.

"A-anyways," she continued, coughing into her hand. Well, her mask, since it was still on. Sneezing sucks when you're a hero. "I was wondering, since you're pretty much done with all the kiddy crap, if you wanted to get in a spar with me tomorrow? I mean, I'll kick your ass, don't get me wrong, but it'll be fun."

I nodded agreeably. "Yeah, alright, let's do it tomorrow. Before lunch or after?"

It could've been a mistake on my part, but it looked like she stiffened slightly before replying. "How about before? That way we can grab some food afterwards and you can sulk about losing." There was a second of silence before she added, "I won't make fun of you _too_ much."

"Okay," I said, kicking back in my chair. "So, do you have any plans for Christmas?"

"Huh?" Stalker seemed startled that I'd asked. "W-well, no, but-"

"Stalker!" Clockblocker called from the door. "C'mon, we gotta get going! You can be creepy later!"

"Fuck you, Clock-face!" she barked, huffing as she pushed away from the chair and stomped from the room. And the conversation had been getting pretty friendly, too.

Shrugging, I turned back to the screens and found Gallant staring at me, his face unreadable under his helmet. "What?" He remained silent, like a weirdo. "What?!"

Finally, he shook his head. "Nothing, just witnessing the impossible," he muttered, turning back to the screens.

…

I woke up early the next day and I still don't know why. It was just one of those days were one second I was dreaming about being an adventurer in some fantasy world and the next I was awake, staring at the ceiling and wondering where my trusty bear mount Hercules had gone.

Don't look at me like that, all dreams are weird.

By the position of the sun, I could tell I had a few more hours until I had anything to do and while I love talking with Cortana, I do enjoy some solitude. So, while I lay there, I turned my mind towards unheroic things, like my continuing education. I still hadn't taken a look at Winslow yet, nor had I talked to Stalker about it and even if it wasn't a school I still didn't want to go there. And now that I'd gotten to know the person I was going there to observe a little better, I wondered if I'd overreacted. Coming off of my experiences, maybe I thought I saw something that wasn't there?

I'd just have to wait and see.

Then I thought about my future. I'd been sixteen for two months by then, and my time had been taken up with moving, therapy occasionally, but mostly learning how to be a hero. I hadn't had the time to think about shit like getting a learner's permit and a license eventually, but being Ward did mean I got a stipend. If I saved up enough, perhaps I could afford a car in a year or two. But man, what I wouldn't give to be able to drive a Warthog or a Mongoose or hell, even a Banshee! But, unfortunately, vehicles didn't count as equipment…

I sat up as that thought occurred. "Cortana?"

Her form appeared over my phone with a flicker, stretching luxuriously and yawning loudly. "Good morning, Saul," she greeted me with a beaming smile, obviously proud of something. "How'd you sleep?"

"Good, but I need to ask you something," I began, licking my suddenly dry lips. "What's the definition of 'equipment,' Cortana?"

"According the Merriam-Webster dictionary, the definition of equipment is 'the set of articles or physical resources serving to equip a person or thing; such as the implements used in an operation or activity.' A simpler version is 'the necessary items for a particular purpose,' but that's a little-"

"Alright," I cut across her, the niggling thought growing and picking at my brain. "Tell me, how many times do you remember the Chief having a Warthog or a Scorpion dropped off to take him over a long stretch? How many times were they _absolutely necessary_ to the completion of your goals?"

She shrugged her lavender shoulders. "All the damn time. Why?" Her face scrunched in thought. "Wait…"

"Yes!" I nodded eagerly. "Necessary items, for a particular purpose. Vehicles. Count. As equipment."

Cortana stilled and looked at me with wide eyes. "…That makes sense," she said slowly, folding her arms and tapping her chin in thought. "To modify a phrase, your powers don't make any damn sense."

"No they don't and I love it," I replied hurriedly, grabbing my phone from underneath her avatar and unlocking it. "I need to call someone and tell them about this, this is awesome! And I need to practice this!" I paused, the phone nearly slipping out of my fingers. "Holy shit, I am _so_ dumb."

"You're only human, you can't help," my AI companion teased. "About what, though?"

"Of _course_ I can summon vehicles! I mean, seriously!" I rifled through my stack of games. "Look, Burnout: Paradise, Saint's Row, Grand Theft _Auto_ -it's in the friggin' _title!_ -all of these are games where you _need_ cars! Sweet, salty jesus, why did this never occur to me before now?!"

" _Sweetie…"_ My aunt's groaning voice echoed through the house. " _Please keep it down…"_

"Sorry, Aunty," I called back softly. "Go back to sleep. Love you."

" _Love you too…"_ her reply was punctuated by a loud snore.

I rapped my temple with the edge of my phone. "It's official, I will _never_ be genius." Sighing, I tapped in a number and waited to be connected. I asked the person on the other end to connect me to Armsmaster and verified my identity before it went through.

" _Armsmaster,"_ the Tinker answered, sounding completely awake. It didn't surprise me that he was up at the ass-crack of dawn, even if it was winter and the outside sky was still dark as midnight. " _What do you want, Game Master?"_

"Sorry to call so early, but I just realized another aspect of my powers," I replied quickly, "I need someone to observe me while I practice and you're all…" I waved a fruitlessly, searching for the right word. "…Analytical and stuff, I figured you'd be the best to…analyze all that stuff." Wow, I'm _eloquent_.

" _You want to summon vehicles, yes?"_ Armsmaster asked and that just confirmed that yes, I'm really dumb. " _I can observe your practice, yes, but you need a license to drive on any sort of road."_

I scowled. "Kid Win doesn't need a license for his hoverboard," I pointed out.

" _His hoverboard weighs about eight pounds,"_ the elder cape replied dryly. " _Cars typically weigh around two tons. You_ need _a license to drive. You can practice, but you are restricted from using motor vehicles without one."_

Sighing, I conceded the point. "Alright that makes sense, I'll be heading that way soon." I ran a hand through my hair. "And uh, thanks for…this."

" _Noted,"_ he said, and then he hung up. Tinker or not, Cape or not…that guy's a prick.

I called Sarah next and woke her up. I got to hear her all groggy and irritated, which was first since she's usually so calm and cheerful. Hearing her go, " _Whaaaag….?"_ instantly made my morning twice as good. I explained the situation and she sighed deeply, the rustling of her sheets echoing over the connection. " _Alright, fine, I'll be there in forty. You better have some coffee ready for me or you can_ walk _to the Rig."_

"Can do! Thanks a bunch, love-you-bye!" I chirped, hanging up and nearly skipping from the room to take my shower, get the coffee set up and pour myself a bowl of Marshmallow Mateys. I was too excited to make eggs or anything, plus Cecilly had just bought another bag last night even though she just opened the first one yesterday and I wanted some.

After the first few spoonfuls, I realized that Cortana's avatar was still resting on my phone, sitting with her arms crossed and a pensive expression on her face. "Cortana?" She looked troubled and I didn't like that. "What's wrong?"

"Huh?" She glanced up at me before understanding the question. "Nothing's wrong, there's just…" She shook her head and shrugged.

Was it about Christmas coming up? Maybe she missed the Chief, I mean they were partners for a long time, they'd been through a shit-ton of stuff. Mostly danger. And Aliens. And dangerous alien parasites. "Do you want anything for Christmas?" I asked, cringing slightly. "I mean, there's not a lot I can do, really, but if there's _something_ …"

"No, no, don't worry about it," Cortana assured me with a small smile, reaching out to pat my hand, though her expression tightened slightly as fingers passed through mine. "It's a 'me' problem, I'll deal with it. I appreciate the thought, though."

"If you ever want to talk…" I laid the offer on the table and let the conversation die. A few minutes later, a knock sounded from the front door. I gathered the two travel mugs full of coffee, slipped my phone in my pocket and locked the door behind me. Sarah was looking a lot perkier than she sounded during the call, but she accepted the offered coffee with a deep, tired groan of relief.

The drive to the Rig was silent for the most part except for the slurping of coffee and the typical car noises. This time, though, Sarah joined me as I stepped into the elevator and headed up for the flat, empty top that would have enough room for me to drive and fly the vehicles.

Armsmaster was waiting for me up there, his arms crossed and face unreadable under his helmet. Rubbing my hands together, I stepped away from them and brought forth Chief's armor, feeling his military precision washing away my nervousness. Holding my hands out, I closed my eyes and tried to concentrate on the feeling of a wheel in my hands, the pounding of a turret behind my head with a whooping Marine in the passenger.

My body moved, following familiar instincts as I put a foot on the step, lifted myself up and smoothly dropped into a purring Warthog. The noise, the vibrations were all incredibly comforting in a strange way, like I'd just met an old friend for the first time in years.

I pushed the accelerator and the Warthog roared, leaping forward at speed, my urge to whoop dampened by the Chief's control as I turned the wheel and skidded around a corner. It drove just like I remembered; the extra weight on the back end made it swing a little wide on turns, but with the right momentum I could out-maneuver far lighter vehicles.

Braking to a stop by Armsmaster and a gaping Sarah, I looked up at the chaingun turret and willed it to change. Nothing happened, so I guessed I had to jump out and summon a Gauss 'Hog or a Rocket 'Hog to, you know, actually get one.

So I did. And I was right.

Plus, there's a 'Hog with no gun that can carry about six people, which means I could drive people around. I brought this up to Armsmaster and he looked thoughtful (well, his chin did) and he made a note of that. "Perhaps," he offered, but I doubted it would be something I'd get to do anytime soon.

After that, I brought out a Mongoose and raced around the track, mentally giggling before I got off and got down to the Covenant ground vehicles. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my handler jump as I summoned a Ghost, the alien shrieking of the hover-engines surprising the shit out of her. Although his face was as inscrutable as ever, the Tinker drew a notebook out of a pocket and started writing.

The Spectre also got some weird looks but not that many, since it was pretty much just an Alien Warthog, but the Revenant, being a bulkier orange Ghost with light mortar and available passenger seating was appreciated, as was the Chopper. To be honest, the Chopper is probably one of my favorite vehicles of all time. It's like a Ghost but with a massive pair of grinding wheels on the front. I have some good memories of hopping in one of those babies and charging straight through Warthogs, Ghosts and Mongooses.

But then it came time to summon the _big ones_. My nervousness returned even though I knew I could do it, but the question was ' _Should I?'_ Because honestly, summoning a _tank_ is kind of a point of no return. But…I'd already gone that far, might as well go all the way.

I concentrated and moved, agiley climbing the up the tread and hopping down into the seat. My mind went blank as I grasped the controls and the engine roared to life. Eventually, I could think again and the first thought was '… _Holy shit, I'm_ driving _a tank_!' I could've turned the gun on the Rig and blasted it apart because I knew _exactly_ what it was capable of…but that would've been beyond dumb, so I didn't.

Both Sarah and Armsmaster looked a tad pale, as if the image of me climbing out of a tank had impressed upon the weight of the situation. And then I realized that Kid Win and Aegis were standing nearby, the younger Tinker gaping even as he held up a scanner while the tough cape's eyes were wide. "…Hey," I gave them an awkward wave.

"…That was a tank…" Kid Win said faintly.

Feeling mischievous, I crawled into the seat of a Wraith and did a quick donut in the hover tank. "And this is a _alien_ tank," I replied cheekily as I hopped back out.

"…That shouldn't be possible," the Tinker continued, running a hand through his hair. "I mean… _shit!_ I've seen weird stuff before and I thought the whole 'summoning equipment' thing was a little odd, but you just _summoned a tank!_ And not a projection or an illusion, either, I scanned it!" He tapped his visor furiously. "That was an actual, real-life tank, with actual, physical presence and a serial number and shit! This breaks all the known laws of superhero physics, this shouldn't be possible!"

I shrugged. "Hey man, bullshit powers-"

"No!" He interrupted, jabbing a finger at me. "No! _You_ don't get to say that! _Clockblocker's_ powers are bullshit! _This…_ is something else entirely." He sighed, sagging against a wall as he rubbed his face with his hands. "…Why aren't I old enough to drink?"

I resisted the urge to chuckle evilly. "Well, if _that_ bothers you, wait until you see… _this!_ " I turned and dove into the cockpit of Banshee, the Covenant aircraft letting loose an appropriate scream as I hit the acceleration and took to the air. I flew up and let the engine idle, staring out at the view before me.

And that was the first time I fell in love. Of all the good things my powers have given me, flying is easily the best.

The horizon stretched out in front of me, an endless sea of waves and clouds seemingly going on forever. My hands twitched on the yokes, the desire to open up the throttle and speed off into the never-ending distance striking like lightning, but I refrained. Barely.

Instead, I looped back around to look at Brockton Bay. The buildings nearly glowed in early morning sunlight, cars trundling across the roads like ants. From up there, it looked like a normal city, full of normal people going to work and living their lives.

But a looping speck, far too small to be an aircraft, was a harsh reminder that no, nothing was normal. This was a city in trouble, a shiny facade over a corrupted, weeping truth. The PRT held on to the city, barely, while the worst of the worst ran free. It needed more than just a hold on the status quo, a shaky truce between the powerful while the powerless shivered in their homes.

That was my purpose. That was what I had to do. I had the power, I had the _means_ to do something to weigh the scales in the favor of the innocent.

Shaking off the melancholy, I swooped back around and came in to land, jumping out just before the Banshee touched the ground. It vanished from existence right as I left the cockpit and I was on the ground maybe half a second before I jumped into a Hornet, a small UNSC VTOL aircraft that could carry one pilot and two people standing on the wings…though why the hell anyone would want to do that is a mystery for the ages.

There weren't many tricks one can do in something like a Hornet, so I hopped out quickly and summoned a Falcon; which is like a mix of a Pelican and a Hornet, with enough room for two pilots, two gunners and six seats for passengers. That one I could see being used fairly often, since having a helicopter on-demand would be bitchin' for picking up people who couldn't fly, that also has weapons and can't run out of fuel.

I landed again and this time, I wanted to summon something else, something you can only technically drive due to an Easter Egg. I mean, it's _in_ the game, which means I should've been able to summon it. I put some more space between me and the gawkers, hoping I didn't end up looking like an idiot. Then I stepped up the ramp, strode passed the seats and into the cockpit, hopping up into a seat and grabbing the controls.

And then I flew a Pelican. It was a lot slower to turn than a Banshee or the Falcon, but I didn't really care. The Pelican is heavily armored, can magnetically carry a Warthog at the back and twelve passengers, not to mention it's a _goddamn plane._

Goodbye airplane tickets. I mean, seriously, it's from literally hundreds of years in the future, moves faster than any commercial jet because _military_ , and some variants come with onboard chainguns!

If the whole 'superhero' business didn't work out, I could fuckin' kill it in the transportation industry.

I landed and stepped out, dismissing the Pelican and my armor to stand before the watchers as myself. "All of those vehicles were from five hundred or so years in the future," I stated, jacking a thumb at the empty space behind me. "And all of them, even the alien ones, were mass-produced. So, whatever advancements you got from your scans, I want a cut of the profits. Since, you know, they wouldn't be possible without me."

"…I'm sure such things can be negotiated," Armsmaster said, his lips pursed sourly, "I also insist that you receive a pilots' license before you fly one of those vehicles around."

Well, why the fuck not? With the Chief's memories, I could ace any kind of test in a minute flat. "Yeah, alright," I shrugged carelessly. "I'll handle that later. For now-"

As if on cue, Armsmaster twitched and looked to the sky, a frown on his face. "You're supposed to call ahead," he grunted as a figure in white, a _feminine_ figure with blonde hair, landed in front of us.

"Hey, I saw some weird things flyin' around over here and I came to see what's up!" she replied, a cute smile on her face as she punched her palm. "Thought there might be something fun to smash up."

…It was Glory Girl.

…

…Hehehehehe…

I mentally slapped myself, a slight pain behind my eyes helping me get over my fanboying. "That was me," I announced, cursing the slight tremor in my voice. "I was just testing some things out."

Glory Girl turned her attention to me, cocking her head in thought and my eyes unconsciously followed the motion of her platinum blonde hair. "Hmm," she hummed thoughtfully, tapping her chin with a finger. "You must be the new guy! Gem Blaster, right?"

"Game Master, actually," Though if I _could_ shoot gems out of my hands, I'd be either very rich or very dead, probably both. "…Hi."

"Hi!" She chirped, holding a hand out. "Victoria Dallon, also known as the indomitable Glory Girl!" Glory Girl gave me a cheeky wink. "But you already knew that."

Unsure if I should kiss her hand or shake it, I went to play it safe but found myself wincing on the inside as her tight grip squeezed my bones. "Y-yeah, I did. It's nice to meet you. Sorry to pull you away from whatever you were doing."

"Eh, no problem," she shrugged, stretching her arms above her head, "Just going for an early-morning fly." My eyes locked on the lithe muscles that became visible as her super suit stretched taut over her skin, and I had to remind myself that I was a gentleman, dammit. I could fantasize later.

"If that's all, Glory Girl, it's time you left," Armsmaster said tightly, the grip on his halberd creaking quietly.

"It's not, actually," she replied cheerfully, digging a hand into the pouch hanging from her belt. "No, that's my cellphone. Nope, that's my gum. Ah, here it is!" She withdrew a photo and held it out to me a 'subtle' wink and a whisper. "I hear _someone's_ a fan."

I couldn't contain an excited gasp as I beheld the sight of the entirety of New Wave posing together and smiling, the neat squiggles of the their signatures labeling who was who, except one. "Really?!" I had to restrain the urge to hop in place and giggle. Aunt Cecilly was gonna _freak!_

"Yup," her response was punctuated by the click of a pen. "So, who should I make it out to?"

I glanced suspiciously at the other Wards and gestured for her to step out of earshot. "Can you make it out to Cecilly Whittaker?" I whispered.

Glory Girl frowned bemusedly at me. "I didn't know 'Cecilly' was a boy's name," she muttered, signing it with a shrug. "But hey, who am I to judge?"

"Well, it's not _my_ name," I replied slowly, "It's my aunt's."

She arched an eyebrow at me. "So…the whole 'my aunt's a huge fan' thing wasn't so you could our autographs?"

"No," I said bluntly. "My aunt _is_ a huge fan. Your mom-I mean, Brandish-is the whole reason she got into law in the first place. I mean, she had some bad days but never developed any superpowers, but she realized you don't need super strength or speed to help people. You don't need superpowers to be a hero. And the fact that Brandish _has_ powers doesn't really take away from the fact that she's a damn good lawyer with a strong sense of justice."

Glory Girl cocked her head at me. "…Yeah, I know," she replied dryly. "I've lived with that my entire life."

Of course she had. "Sorry," I shrugged sheepishly. "I didn't mean to get defensive or anything."

"S'alright," she nodded, handing me the photo with a flourish. "I'm not doing this for free, y'know. I want something."

The way she said that made my mind dive right into the gutter. "Um, okay…I mean, I can't imagine what I could give you, but name your price."

"If she's really as big a fan as you say, then I went proof!" She declared, pointing a finger imperiously at me. "Take a picture of her face please!"

"Deal!" I immediately agreed, shaking her hand before a thought occurred. "Dammit!"

"What?"

"Christmas is still a week away!" I wailed, clutching my head. "There's no way I'll be able hide this!" My head snapped up, my gaze locking on my handler. "Sarah!"

She flinched slightly. "Y-yeah?"

I rushed up to her, taking her hand and carefully placing my present in her hand, like it was made delicate glass. "Take this. Hold onto to it for me. Keep it secret, keep it safe." I leaned in to whisper. "Don't tell Aunty."

Sarah nodded and slipped the photo into her jacket, patting it assuringly. "I won't, don't worry," she said with a soft chuckle.

Glory Girl giggled girlishly. It was a rather nice sound. "If this is what this place is like now, I gotta visit more often!" she declared before giving a cheeky salute. "Seeya later!" She took off with a crack, the ground splitting slightly under her feet.

"Collateral Damage Barbie strikes again," Kid Win muttered, before turning a disappointed look on me. "You got some cool points with all the cars and stuff, but now…" He shook his head and tsked. "…Dude."

I stared at him for a scant second. "Pffft," I waved him off and checked my watch. "Fuck off, I got a spar to get to."

"Language, Game Master," Armsmaster warned as I walked away.

"English," I replied, making my way to the elevator. Stepping inside, I hit the button and waited as it began to move, but it stopped on the way. The doors opened, admitting an oddly reflective Shadow Stalker. "Oh hey, I was just on the way to the sparring floor."

"Yeah, I saw," she said shortly.

She made no move to continue the conversation and I didn't want to draw her ire when we were _just_ getting friendly, so I let it die. We rode the elevator in silence and walked to the sparring floor, facing each other across the ring. "Rules?" I finally asked, rolling my shoulders out.

"Nothin' serious, no groin shots or anything like that, win by making the other tap out or pinning for three seconds," she replied, cracking her knuckles. "Go."

I expected someone who was more on the stealthy side to be patient, but Stalker rushed me before I took a step forward, lashing out with a kick that I barely ducked. Then she was on me, swinging with what felt like barely-contained fury or desperation. I took a punch to the jaw, her arm snaking around my neck before I ducked out of it, shoving her away with my shoulder to her back.

She dodged a left hook and deflected a kick, locking her heel around my ankle and pulling me forward into an almost-split and uncorked a boot at my face. I managed to catch it with my hands and shove her back, slamming my hands on the ground to push myself into a slide, taking the feet out from under her. I dove at her, my arms swinging wide as she rolled under me and came up from behind, catching a wild swing from me and twisting my arm behind my back.

"One, two-" Stalker began but was cut off as I spun in the direction she was pulling my arm, hooking my hand under her belt to bring her up over my shoulder and slam her into the ground, wrapping her in a sleeper hold.

"One!" I counted, feeling her scrabbling at my arm. "Tw-Hee!"

In desperation, she reached behind and grabbed a handful of my right buttcheek before sliding down to dig her fingernails into the meat of my thigh, pulling on my knee and shoving herself back. Most her weight landed right on my stomach, driving the breath from my lungs as she rolled over, pulling my arm up between her legs while one foot pushed against my shoulder and the other rested against my neck.

I struggled as she counted down. "One!" My free hand dug at her boots and Stalker twisted my wrist warningly. "Two!" I tried to roll over but she pushed me back with the boot on my shoulder. "Three!"

I relaxed against the floor with a defeated sigh as she released my arm, feeling rather disappointed in myself. I know that, without my powers, I'm just a baseline human teenager but come on, I hoped it would be more of a fight. "…Dammit…"

"I won," Stalker breathed, sitting up and shaking her head. "I won."

"Yeah," I nodded, stretching my arms out. "I mean, I think I won a bit, too. You _did_ grab my ass and play rough. What kinda guy do you think I am?! I was raised in a celibate household, I'll have you know!"

Stalker cocked her head me. "You were?"

"Ha, no." I mean, Aunt Cecilly was too busy for so long and I was…well, me, so it technically _was_ a celibate household, though not by choice. I also noticed that she didn't seem embarrassed at all.

"W-well, it was just to win, alright? I didn't mean to…" Stalker coughed, and my ego was thus soothed. "Whatever. Let's go again, but this time…" She broke apart into smoke, reforming to stand above me victoriously. "Powers are allowed."

Pushing myself up, I accessed InFamous but remembered I still had my Neon on. Quickly, I switched to Batman. "One second," I said, withdrawing a smoke bomb from my belt and throwing it against the ground. Switching back, the smoke remained and I absorbed it into me, a ripple of heat traveling under my skin. "Smoke versus Smoke. Let's do this."

Sounds awesome, right? The fight of the ages or something like that.

…It really wasn't.

When someone has the ability to turn into smoke and is willing to abuse it at will, it makes pinning them down _really fucking hard._ When it's _two_ people with that power? It's like two eels wrestling in a vat of lube, and in the end comes down to stamina.

And, well, there was no stamina mechanic for Delsin, so I won through attrition alone. It wasn't a clean win, but it was _a_ win.

After that, the day was pretty simple. I mean, I took my final test, a long, boring review of all the crap I'd learned in the last few weeks. That was it. Afterwards, I learned that I'd passed and was taking the final steps to being a Ward. Only two more things to do: Go on my first patrol, and get announced to the public.

There was one I wasn't looking forward to, and I'll give you a guess which.

The next day, I ran through the physical tests and usually that would've been fun and I'd be able to chat with my watcher, but my watcher was Armsmaster and well, I think you see where I'm going with that.

As I stepped out of the shower booth and dried my hair, I tried to quell the shivering in my stomach. You'd think, after weeks of training and testing, getting attacked at lunch and sparring with Stalker, that I'd be done with being nervous, but no. I'd watched every other Ward while they were on patrol, and I'd seen just how boring it could be, but I couldn't help it.

Pulling on fresh clothes, followed by my gear, I exhaled deeply and stared at myself in the mirror. "C'mon, Saul," I muttered, slapping my cheeks lightly. "You're only taking a walk around the city. It's only _your first outing as a superhero._ No pressure. Stop being a bitch and go do it."

My confidence thus buoyed by my inspiring speech, I drew my phone and called my Aunt. " _Hey sweetie, what's up?"_ she asked curiously, the sounds of what was definitely a cartoon echoed through the connection before it was paused.

"Not much, just about to go out. On my first patrol. Ever." I coughed into my hand. "I'm not nervous."

" _Of course not,"_ she said knowingly, " _Sweetie, you trained for this. You watched it happen and you practiced. Now, it's just doing it for real. I know you can do it,_ you _know you can do it. So just get it done."_

"You're right," I sighed, feeling a bit better. "You're the best, Aunt Cecilly."

" _Of course I am,"_ Cecilly replied a tad smugly, before falling into a thoughtful silence. " _Y'know, taken out of a context, this conversation could've been about sex."_

And then I was done. "Love you too, bye."

" _Bye~!"_ she sang before the call ended.

Cracking my neck, I pulled my mask and visor on and walked to the door. I was ready.

Ready for my first night as a hero.

…

 **A/N: You know, this would be a good place to stop…**

… **but nah.**

…

Miss Militia was sitting at the console when I stepped inside, her olive eyes scanning my form briefly. "Ready?" She smiled when I nodded in reply. "You look ready."

"So, who am I running with?" I asked, rubbing my hands together. "Vista or Kid Win?" Her space-bending power and his hoverboard would be able to keep up with me. Though, Aegis can fly and he's responsible, so he would make sense.

"Neither," the America-themed heroine replied "Your partner's-"

The door slid open and Shadow Stalker stepped in, her crossbows at her belt and geared up for patrol. "I'm here and ready, let's get this shit started," she announced quickly, crossing her arms and tapping a foot.

"-Shadow Stalker," Miss Militia finished, somewhat lamely, "She volunteered to join your first patrol."

…Huh. "Alright then, let's get to it." I said, heading for the door while throwing a wave at the older cape. "Have a nice night."

"Be safe," she replied, her eyes following us for a few seconds.

We stepped into an elevator heading down to the parking garage, where we'd hitch a ride with some departing PRT fellas back to the mainland. There, we'd jump out and start our patrol. "So…" I started, glancing at my dark, silent companion. "You volunteered?"

"Yeah, what about it?" Stalker said defensively. "It's Baby's First Patrol, an easy route between Downtown and the Tower District. There ain't shit that happens there and I wanted an easy run."

I had the feeling there was more to that than what she was saying, but I left it alone. The ride down was short, as was the ride to the mainland. The guys and girls in the van barely said a word to anyone, preferring to sit in sullen silence. They didn't even say anything when they stopped at the docks and let us out. Dicks.

The patrol route was nearly a mile away and the fastest way get there, besides the vehicles I couldn't use because of the goddamn rules, was by rooftop. "Race you to the top," I said quickly before Smoke-dashing into a conveniently-placed vent. Speeding through the ventilation system as smoke is quite the experience but not easily described. It's like, being all flowy but not in a way humans are supposed to be, but like, not like drugs either. It's a state of mind you have to experience for yourself to accurately describe it.

Or 'smoky' in a word.

I popped out of a vent on the roof, reforming in the air and landing with a thump and had enough time to affect a bored posture, examining my nails as Stalker flowed out the opening and coalesced together. I could feel the glare behind her mask. "You cheated," she accused.

"Yup," I replied bluntly. "Get good, scrub." With that said, I ran for the edge and jumped off, dashing towards the next building twice to reach the roof. "Keep up!"

"You're lucky I can't kick your ass! Again!" Stalked called, turning to smoke and drifting after me. My fingers twitched with urge to absorb the black mist wafting off the cloud that was her, something I'd only felt the day before when we sparred. I wondered if I _could_ actually absorb her smoke-form and if that would kill her; then I decided to not try, just in case.

By the time we reached the start of the route, the buildings were a lot shorter and closer together. Stalker had caught up and wasn't hostile, even pointing out some of the places she'd been to while we patrolled. Apparently, she had a wealthy friend who liked 'the finer things in life,' like designer clothes, perfume and spa treatments. While I could live without the first two, I _had_ always wanted to go to a day spa and see what all the fuss was about. Maybe when Aunt Cecilly's birthday came up I'd have enough cash saved up to treat the both of us?

Before I knew it, an hour had passed and we checked in Miss Militia before continuing. Not even ten minutes later, we heard a quickly-muffled shriek coming from a nearby alleyway.

Dashing on top of the closest building, I peeked over the side and saw a man, tall and muscled with a bald head, pushing a woman against the brickwork, one hand pressed over her mouth while the other tore at the purse on her arm.

I made to jump down, but Stalker put a hand on my arm. "We should see if she fights back," she whispered, her voice low and anticipatory.

"…What." I said flatly, giving her an incredulous stare behind my visor. "Why in _the hell_ should we do that?"

"She fights back, she deserves to be saved," Stalker replied simply, as if that was obvious answer.

I froze in shock. Then I reached down and pried her hand off. "That's _not_ how this works," I stated firmly before jumping off the roof. I landed with loud thump, loud enough to draw their attention. They stared at me, wide-eyed, but the woman recovered quicker and freed her mouth, biting down on the hand in front of it.

The man howled in pain and I moved, dashing up in close, seizing him by the arm and throwing him against the opposite wall. He swung wildly and I caught his arm, twisting it up to punch him in the stomach, then down to crack him across the face before throwing the mugger over my shoulder and ending it with a kick. I knelt and zip-tied his wrists, setting him up against the wall and turning to the woman.

She was older, probably around thirty, and was plain but pretty if that makes sense. Her hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail, brown eyes wide as she stared at me. She flinched slightly as I reached out and laid a hand on her shoulder. "Are you alright?" I asked gently.

"Y-yeah," she said shakily. "I-I didn't know what…I just-I don't know…"

"You're safe now, ma'am," I assured, patting her shoulder. "Do you want an escort home?"

She shook her head slowly. "No, no…it's just a block away." A thought seemed to occur to her and she turned on me, stepping forward and throwing her arms around me. "Thank you! Thank you so much! I don't know what would've happened, but thank you…" She stepped back sheepishly. "…I'm sorry, but I don't know your name."

"I'm Game Master, I'm the newest Ward. And you're the first person I've ever helped!" I chuckled lowly and pulled out my notepad. "Can I have your name?"

"Allison, Allison Thorne," she replied, blushing slightly. "U-um, do you want my number, too?"

"That would be great, thanks," I tried to give her a smile, forgetting that I was wearing a mask. "Your address as well."

Allison gave me a surprised look. "M-my address?"

"Yeah, so the police can find you and take your statement, see if you want to press charges and all that," I replied, getting the information from the oddly disappointed woman. "Are you sure you don't want an escort?"

"No, thank you," she answered, giving me a warm smile. "It's a short walk to my apartment, I don't want to interrupt your night any further."

"Have a good night, Allison," I waved as she trotted off, getting shy wiggle of her fingers in return. And then I was alone in the alley…until Shadow Stalker dropped from above, landing next to me with a quiet noise. We stared at each other for a long, silent second. "Listen-" She began.

"-I need to report this," I cut across quickly, turning on my communicator. "Console, this is Game Master. Just stopped a mugging on Fifth and Captain, need a police car for one."

Miss Militia sighed deeply. " _Game Master, you're supposed to contact Console_ before _you intervene in a criminal activity."_

Ah, shit. She was right. "I-" I opened my mouth to apologize when Stalker cut in.

"I recorded it all, Militia." Though I couldn't see her eyes, I felt her looking at me.

There was a brief period of noise as Miss Militia tapped away at the keyboard. " _So you did,"_ she sounded impressed. " _Good thinking, Shadow Stalker. Game Master, learn from this."_

"I will, Console," I promised quietly. "Resuming patrol."

" _Good work, you two,"_ she replied. " _Console out."_

Switching the comm. off, I turned to Stalker but couldn't find anything to say in that moment. We waited in silence for the police to arrive, gave them our report then watched as they loaded the mugger into the back and drove off. Taking to the rooftops, we patrolled for another hour before the silence became too much. "Thank you," I began, making Shadow Stalker jump. "For covering me with the recording."

"Yeah," she muttered. "And…" 'For not telling her I didn't help' went unsaid.

"Yeah," I repeated. "But…what in the _fuck_ was that? 'If she fights back, we save her.' What kind of reason is that to not help someone in danger?"

"She fought back, you saved her," Stalker shrugged defensively. "It's over, drop it."

I stepped in front of her. "No." I stated. "I want to know _why_. Why you think that kind of mindset is acceptable. Why the hell you have that outlook and call yourself a hero."

She shoved a finger against my chest. "Fuck you! This is your _first_ goddamn day on the streets, you don't get to drop that kind of shit on me, _Game Master!_ You haven't seen the shit I've seen, haven't suffered the way I have!" She tried to push me back, but I planted my feet. "You think this fucking life's some kind of game, where the heroes are all shiny and good and the villains are all dark and evil! Well it ain't like that! Good and bad are for the weak, so the 'righteous' can build themselves up with imagined power _while_ the truly powerful laugh!"

Stalker growled low in her throat. "The world is shit," she said, restrained anger trembling in her voice. "And you either stand on the backs of the weak or get your face pushed in shit by the strong. _That's_ how it is."

"No, it isn't." I whispered, reaching up to push my visor away from my eyes. "It may seem like that, but the world isn't entirely terrible. So much of it is, yeah, but things are never _all_ shit. There are good things, _amazing_ things, even, buried beneath it, but nothing worth having is easy to get. _Those_ things, the _good_ things…are worth fighting for, are worth _protecting._ And in that, there's strength. There is _power_ in hope, and love and caring. It is when you have something to defend, to know what could happen if you fail, _that_ is when are truly strong."

Shadow Stalker tilted her head, staring at me with hidden eyes before she laughed hollowly. "You're naive. And an idiot. A _naive idiot_. What was that speech supposed to do, make me fall to my knees in revelation? Say 'oh yes, you are so very wise and I am entirely wrong, oh woe is me!' Is that what you thought would happen?" She crossed her arms and shook her head, muttering under her breath.

I shook my head shortly. "No. I just wanted you to know how I see it. Yeah, maybe I do want you to see it my way, but that's on you, not me. All I can do is keep at it and maybe you will, one day."

"I won't. What if you're wrong, and I'm right?" Stalker replied roughly, dropping her arms to stand in tall in front of me. "In fact, I think _you'll_ come over to _my_ point of view in time. Actually, let's make a bet on it. I'll show you how the world is and when you finally admit it, well…that can be determined later."

"Alright, fine," I nodded, holding a hand out to shake. "And I bet that I can change the way you see the world. If I win, I don't what exactly I'll make you do, but it'll involve pink. _Neon pink._ "

"You monster," she gasped in horror, before we shared a chuckle. "By the way…why'd you cover for me?"

"You covered for me," I replied with a shrug, feeling heat build in my face. "And, to be honest…despite our first meeting and this just now…I kinda like you, alright?"

Stalker stepped back in surprise. "Y-you do?" She asked then coughed into her hand. "I mean, of course you do! That's just proof you'll soon be on my side."

"Whatever," I muttered, sliding my visor down and we continued on our patrol.

Out patrol time was almost up when our communicators rang. "GM here, what's the situation?"

" _A silent alarm was tripped Sal Vicker's Pawn Shop, and you two are the closest to the situation,"_ Miss Militia replied, a note of stress in her voice. " _If you think you can handle it, go ahead. If you don't, observe the situation, Armsmaster fifteen minutes out."_

"We should take a look at least," Stalker pointed out, fingering her crossbows in anticipation.

"Yeah, we'll peek at the situation and go from there," I said, making sure my visual equipment was on that time. "Heading that way now."

"Sal Vickers," Stalker muttered, shaking her head even as she leaped over the gap between, shifted to smoke to glide for a second before. It was actually kind of impressive. "A brat shop. Rich kids go there to hock their parent's jewels and gold for clean cash they can spend on whatever's the 'in' drug of the day."

"Sounds like decent place to hit, except for the alarms," I admitted, dashing over to the building adjacent to the pawn shop. "But I'm no criminal genius."

We crouched down at the lip of the roof, peering down into the shop. One man held the cashier, a rather hefty, sweaty fellow at gunpoint with a shotgun, while two more smashed the glass in the display cases and shoveled handfuls of gold, jewels and anything slightly valuable into burlap sacks. All three wore typical robber garb, dark clothes and balaclavas. I scanned the street, finding an idling car a little more than a block away from the store. If I hadn't been looking for it (thanks to my extensive viewings of heist movies), it wouldn't have even been on my radar.

I tapped Stalker on the shoulder and pointed it out to her. "Good spot, I was just about to look for that myself," she muttered, tapping the chin of her mask in thought. "Alright, I got a plan, how about you?"

I shrugged. "Take out the driver, wait for them to come out then take them down."

"Not bad," she admitted with a nod. "But what if they shoot that fat fuck when they leave?"

"I don't think they would, given that they're wearing masks and don't want to be identified, and the police will definitely search harder for murderers than robbers," I replied. "That being said, let's not give them the chance. I think I can fire off a Neon shot that should disintegrate his shotgun if I hit it in the right place." If it can vaporize a fully-armored human, I'm pretty sure it can do the same to a _shotgun_.

Stalker pulled back and gave me a strange look. "…You can shoot _neon,_ " she pointed out incredulously. "How, exactly, would that disintegrate _anything_?"

"Activated neon, which makes it a type of plasma, and I think we all know what plasma can do," I answered with no small amount smugness.

"The how come all it does is tie people up?" She asked, keeping the crime-in-progress in the corner of her eye.

"'Cause that's what I want it to do," I said shortly. "Alright, I got a plan. I'll take care of the getaway driver and then we'll go in the shop. You go first in smoke-form, staying low to the ground and when I bust in and blow the gun out of his hands, we'll kick their ass and be done with it. Sound good?"

"Works for me," Stalker replied with a shrug.

"Sweet, back in a sec," With that said, I dashed across the street, creeping over the roofs above the getaway. I noticed that the driver had a small pile of spent cigarette butts under the driver-side window, which was still open. With barely a thought, I formed a Smoke Grenade in my hand and tossed it through the window.

It burst in a wave of grey smoke, leaving the driver coughing harshly before a trio of Smoke Shots flew from my hand and hit his head, a swirling cloud of smoke forming around his head as he went limp. "Don't you know smoking's bad for you?" I quipped, clapping my hands in satisfaction.

I waved up to my compatriot and drained the neon from a nearby sushi restaurants' sign, sneaking up to the door of the pawn shop as she slipped by me as a low cloud of black smoke and my fingers twitched again. I waited a few more seconds for her to get into position before I raised my hand and pushed the glass door open, the bell above it chiming softly.

My hand came up and time slowed to a crawl, my eyes landing on the section of the robber's shotgun that glowed red. I took aim and fired, a pink and white neon bolt screaming through the air to impact that section, the gun vaporizing with a brief fizz.

He jumped back in surprise and I sped forward, slide-tackling the third robber on the way before I reached the leader, with him fumbling for a pistol in his belt. I unwrapped my chain and channeled neon through it, swinging it at the robber once, twice, leaving a glowing X on his chest before I landed a punch on his nose. And as his head snapped back, I sped around him, a neon cocoon conforming to his body that took him to the floor, wriggling like a worm.

The snap of a crossbow string drew my attention to Shadow Stalker as she emptied a tranq bolt into the second robber's shoulder, kicking him lightly before he went still. Then the last man let out a panicked shriek as he sprinted for the door, his sack of loot clattering to the ground, forgotten. I snapped off a bolt at his ankle as Stalker quick-drew her other crossbow and shot him in the back.

"Alright!" I pumped a fist in the air. "Now that's what I call teamwork! High five!" Stalker obligingly slapped my hand and I accessed the communicator after composing myself. "Game Master here, all criminals neutralized, civilian safe and property secure."

" _I can see that,"_ Miss Militia responded, her voice warm. " _Excellent work, you two. I've already alerted the police, and they should be there within fifteen minutes. I think that just about covers your patrolling hours, so congratulations on the completion of your first successful patrol, Game Master."_

"Thank you ma'am," I said with a smile, not willing to keep the satisfaction out of my voice. "The first of many. We'll stick around until the cops come and get what they need, then we're done for night."

" _Acknowledged, Game Master,"_ Miss Militia replied. " _See you tomorrow."_

With that done, I turned off the communicator and turned to the owner, the heavy man wiping his sweaty brow with a monogrammed handkerchief. "Are you alright, civilian?"

"Yes, yes," he said hastily, sighing as he tucked the handkerchief away. "Thank you for the timely intervention, heroes. I was afraid they were going to kill me."

"All in a night's work," I nodded, bending to pick up a sack of loot. "If you don't mind, I'll help clean up a bit while we wait for the cops."

"Good, good," the fat man muttered, fanning his face with a hand. "I'm just going to sit down until my heart stops pounding."

Bending down, I scooped the dropped loot into the bag, examining a few of the pieces as I did so. Most were gold or silver, with various jewels set in them and pretty much all of them were gaudy as all hell, more displays of wealth than a symbol of anything important. Unless that symbol was wealth.

There was one that caught my eye, though, a simple ring made of dark silver metal like titanium, with Japanese characters engraved on the surface. They were too faded to read, but it looked nice. Still, I tossed it in the sack and set it on the counter. Stalker was still kneeling by the other sack o' loot, turning a ring in her hand over and over, rubbing her thumb against the skull design. Her whole body language nearly shouted longing.

Black clothes and cloak, scowling woman face mask, malevolent-sounding name, and then skull rings? Yup…I could officially call her an Edgelady.

The shining lights of the police poured through the windows, joined by sirens as officers of the law came inside. Stalker glanced over at me and tossed the ring into her sack, pushing it over with her foot. "I'll deal with them," she muttered, jerking her head at the cops.

I picked the sack up and set it on the counter, digging through the inside to find the ring. It was just as I'd seen, but with a pair of small sapphires imbedded in the eye sockets. I'd gotten gifts for Sarah and Aunt Cecilly, and then I had a new rival/partner.

And, well, it _was_ almost Christmas.

I turned to the owner and held up the ring. "How much for this?"

…

 **A/N: You know, this is** _ **also**_ **a good place to stop.**

… **but nah.**

…

" _-I'd like to officially announce the newest Ward joining the Brockton Bay Protectorate, Game Master."_ _Piggot stepped aside as I walked up to the podium, nervous sweat breaking out on my forehead as a sea of gazes, some curious, some incredulous, all judging, fixed on me. Drawing on Bruce Wayne instead of Batman, I stood at the podium and greeted the crowd._

" _Good morning, Brockton Bay. As you just heard, I am Game Master. I can summon the equipment of video game characters and use them to their fullest ability, hence the name." I coughed into my hand. "I know we all have things to do, so I'll keep it short and sweet. I'm not here to make a name for myself, I'm here to help people and make the city a better place for everyone." I paused to let them take it in. "Thank you, have a nice day."_

Watching it from home on Christmas Eve, I marveled at how calm and confident I sounded, even though inside I was shaking with fear. "What'd you think of that, Aunty?"

"Not bad," she replied with a nod, flopping on the couch next to me after setting a tray laden with mugs full of eggnog on the coffee table. "I don't know much about press stuff, but it was to the point and easy to understand. Though, I think you probably should've tried to be more open and humorous, tried to set them at ease a little."

"Yeah, probably," I shrugged, taking a mug for myself and passing the other to the woman on my right. "Here you go, Sarah. How do you think it went?"

She replied by way of taking a deep drink of her 'nog. "It was fine," she said thickly, "It was a meeting to introduce yourself to the public and that's what you did."

It was good enough, so I turned the channel from the news to a Christmas movie marathon to begin our old tradition: Watching movies and bitching about all the unrealistic crap that goes on.

It lasted long into the night, going through four movies and six cartoons of eggnog. I knew it was time to go to bed when the credits for the movie began to roll but I remembered blinking while the plot was just getting started. That, and my shoulders were being used as pillows by my aunt and my handler, both snoring softly.

I shifted carefully, but still woke Sarah up. She jumped like she'd been shocked, peering around glazed eyes. "Oh christ," she muttered, rubbing her cheek as she looked down at her watch. "It's really-" A wide yawn interrupted her sentence, "-late. I should probably head home."

"Nonsense," I whispered, hefting my aunt into my arms, her head lolling against my shoulder where she began to gnaw on my shirt. "It's way too late to drive, you look like you're about pass out and both of those things plus the weather lead me to believe that would be a terrible idea."

Sarah sleepily lifted a curtain and peered out of the window, her eyebrows arching as she beheld the sight of softly falling snow, adding more to inches-thick layer already on the ground. "Huh. A White Christmas, what do you know," she muttered, rubbing her eyes. "Yeah, you're right, I shouldn't be out on the road in this weather. I guess I really don't have anywhere to be tomorrow, so…"

"I'll get you some blankets and pillows once I get Cecilly in bed," I replied, sending her a warm smile as she slumped on the couch. "I'm also making cinnamon rolls for breakfast."

My handler groaned in a way that was both longing and tired, something I'm familiar with from all my late-night gaming sessions. Just one more level and I'll be done but hey, it's four in the morning. "Keep tempting me like this and I just might keep you," she murmured, her eyes already fluttering shut.

I easily carried Aunt Cecilly to her room and set her down on the bed, but I found getting her to let go was the bigger challenge. "Nuuuuuu…" she moaned, clutching onto my shirt. "'M coollllllld…staaaaaaayyyy…"

"C'mon, auntie, who's supposed to be the needy teenager here?" I asked, gently working at her fingers. She buried her face against my chest and let another whimpered, 'Nooooooooo…' "Alright, fine."

"Yaaaaaaayyy…" she finally let go of my shirt and flopped back on the bed, burrowing under the covers like big blonde mole. "Huuuurrryyy…"

I sighed theatrically, though it wasn't any big sacrifice on my part, I loved cuddling with Aunt Cecilly. Stepping into my room, I already had my shirt over my head as I spoke up. "Hey, Cortana, I'm sleeping in my Aunt's room tonight, do you mind?"

"No, I don't," she replied, followed by a quiet giggle that didn't sound anything like her voice. "…Dragon and I were just finishing our conversation."

I froze then finished my unshirting to find Cortana's avatar standing on my laptop, the screen of which was filled with Dragon's green, digitized face. Both were wearing coy smirks which grew into grins as I raised my arms and tried to cover myself with them. " _Wha-"_ Damn you, voice cracking! You made the situation ten times worse! "Ahem, I mean, what are you doing on my laptop, Dragon?" I paused in thought. "Merry Christmas by the way."

"It is, indeed," she teased, giving me an over-the-top wink. "I'm Jewish, by the way."

"And I'm an Atheist, Merry Christmas," I replied flatly. Christmas, since my parents died, had never been about religion or a savior, but about the few days I got to spend with my only remaining family. "That said, I'm fairly certain AI don't have a religion."

"Saul!" Cortana huffed in mock-offense, "I'll have you know I'm a dedicated follower of Binary!" Her facade died as she chuckled, and Dragon gave her a sour look.

"You already told him?" She grouched, frowning. "I thought it was supposed to be a secret?"

"It still is," my AI companion replied easily, crossing her arms. "But we're a package deal. He's the first person I told, though he would've figured it out on his own eventually."

"What are you guys doing?" I asked, pulling on a comfortable flannel shirt. "And do I want to know?"

"I taught her how to clone her program without a tap in her feed," Cortana smirked proudly. "We're coming up with ways to deal with Saint and the Dragon Slayers."

"Alright," I said easily, gathering up my pillow and a fleece blanket. "Let me know if you need my help for anything."

"I will," she replied, waving as I headed for the door. "Good night."

Sarah was fast asleep by the time I went into the living room, all curled up on the couch with her head on the armrest. She shifted and snorted a bit when I lifted her head and slipped the pillow underneath, mumbling sleepily as I tucked the blanket in around her. "Merry Christmas, Sarah," I murmured, pressing a light kiss to the burn scar on her cheek.

Aunt Cecilly was lightly rocking on the bed, trying desperately to stay awake but failing. She cuddled up to me as I slipped under the blankets, burrowing against my chest with a mumble of something that could have been 'I love you' or 'good night' or possibly 'salty bananas,' I don't know. But the meaning was appreciated.

"Love you too, Aunty," I said quietly, kissing the top of her head.

…Yeah, it was a pretty good Christmas, all things considered.

…

…

…

…

 **A/N: Yeah, this is also a pretty good place to stop…**

… **Alright.**

 **Yeah, this chapter's been a long time coming. I've been working on other stories, trying to get a job (which I might have just yesterday, still waiting for the background check to clear) and other real life shit like insurance and bills.**

 **But hey, here's a big ol' chapter for ya, with more to follow. Being a big ol' chapter, quiet a lot of stuff happened in here. Training's all done, Saul is now a full-fledged Ward, and he might even have something building with Shadow Stalker, eh? Eh?**

 **Yeah, that's not going to end well, for a multitude of reasons.**

 **Well, I hope you enjoyed this chapter and look forward to the next, because that's where 'THE REAL CONSOLE STARTS' if I wanted to be dramatic.**

 **And I do.**

 **Big thanks, as always, to AJR3333, Dariegh, NorthSouthGorem, and Kurogane7 for their help, time and effort in bringing all this together. Give all them a shout out from me and read their stuff!**

 **Stay Awesome.**

 **~Soleneus**

 **P.S.: Forsaken came out and I'm playing it. Hey, you might see some Old Soldier chaps coming up soon, or even Savior, Destroyer since I've also been playing some For Honor, you never know.**

 **By the way, anyone familiar with Game Of Thrones? I'd like to pick your brain a bit.**

 **Stay Awesome Some More.**

 **~still Soleneus**


	6. Christmas, Spiders, Lockers and Problems

The best thing about winter, I think, is the snow. It comes down in sprinkles, in flurries and blizzards, coating everything in a layer of cold, crunchy white. It covers everything in a layer of pristine powder, makes everything look cleaner for awhile. Before the kids come roaring out of their houses to pelt each other with snowballs or build snowmen, of course.

But the best part, for me, was staying inside, keeping the heat at a minimum so you had to snuggle up under a cocoon of blankets, with mugs of hot chocolate and a marathon of movies or cartoons. For me, Christmas has never been about the season or a religion, or even presents; it's about family. Spending time with the people I love, wallowing in it like a bubble bath.

That's what made it so hard to wake up that Christmas morning. Aunt Cecilly was clutching onto me like a limpet, snoring into my ear under our bundle of blankets; to be fair, her snoring was very delicate and ladylike, almost more of wistful sighs than half-snorts. It was _very_ warm, and I struggled to even open my eyes for more than a second at a time, but my force of will outweighed my need to snuggle.

That, and I had to make cinnamon rolls. And I had to pee.

Escaping from my aunt's grasp was like trying to escape from the arms of an octopus. The first step was to slip a pillow in-between us and let it get warm, then slowly pry her fingers off, pausing when she shifted in her sleep, then continuing once it was safe. It was a delicate task but I eventually succeeded, slipping out from under the covers and padding from the room to get started on Christmas breakfast.

I was stopped by the sight that met me as I entered the living room. Now, Cecilly and I decorate a little, some tinsel here, a candle there and a plastic snowman on top of the TV; but what I saw was _the works_. A seven foot pine wrapped in lights and tinsel, ornaments and candy canes hanging from the branches, along with a pile of gaily wrapped presents underneath. It was very pretty, and very surprising, given that none of it was there the night before. There were even stockings hung up on the wall, with one for Sarah!

And speaking of my handler, she was still curled up on the couch, but whoever had set up all the decorations had also perched a Santa hat on her head at a jaunty angle. While it was funny, it also freaked me out. Someone snuck into my home, where a government agent was sleeping, and set up a bunch of stuff without waking anyone. Including Cortana.

Actually, how did _anyone_ get past her watchful eyes? She's a freaking AI, she sleeps for three seconds!

Forgoing breakfast for the moment, I crept into my room and tapped on my phone. "Cortana!" I hissed, my eyes darting to every corner of the room as if the person who snuck in was still around.

She arose from the screen with a yawn, flashing me a warm smile. "Merry Christmas, Saul!" She greeted, sitting down with her legs crossed.

"Yeah, Merry Christmas," I muttered hurriedly, pulling the phone close to my face and whispering. "Someone broke into our house last night!"

"Wait, really?" she asked incredulously, before cocking her head in thought, "They didn't steal anything, did they?"

"Not that I could see, no," I shrugged. "They set up a bunch of decorations and a tree…and _presents."_

"That's because that was me," my AI companion replied dryly. "I did it. Actually, I borrowed one of Dragon's suits and did it. And it isn't technically 'breaking in' since I live here too."

"Oh." That made sense. "Why didn't you tell me?"

She arched an eyebrow at me. "It's not much of a _surprise_ if I tell you about it," her tone let me know just what she thought of my intelligence. "I guess I should've spoiled it for you last night."

"Or just dropped a warning that there would be a surprise," I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "I appreciate it, though, don't get me wrong, and I'm sure my aunt will, too."

Cortana smirked at me. "I'm sure."

Her avatar flickered up on my shoulder as I slipped my phone in my pocket and went back to the kitchen, pausing to push Sarah's hat back up as I passed. I'd already pre-made the dough before settling in last night, so all I had to do was roll it out, slather it with butter and sprinkle cinnamon and sugar on top. Then I rolled it up, cut it up and threw it in the oven. While that was baking, I got the coffee going and set out some bacon to fry before I got to mixing the icing.

I'll admit, I like to cook. Something about knowing the entirety of a recipe, going through all the motions like they're instinct so you don't have to think about anything in general is just really calming. I have a lot of fond memories of being in the kitchen with my parents, feeling exasperated because it seemed like I was the only one taking things seriously while big kids-who purported to be _adults_ -fucked around and made a mess.

That's probably why I don't do it so much anymore.

Eventually, the mixed scents permeated the house, waking both the ladies and drawing them to the kitchen. Sarah, being the closest, was first to enter, scratching confusedly at the Santa hat. "Hey, kid," she started, pointing to the living room over her shoulder. "There's a bunch of…stuff in there. Where'd that come from? And why didn't I hear it?"

I pointed at the lavender avatar still perched on my shoulder. "Ask her," I said, pouring and doctoring a cup of coffee for her. "Apparently Cortana can be really quiet when she wants to be."

My handler drank deeply as my aunt joined us, yawning loudly and stretching. "M'rning," she mumbled, wiping a strand of drool from her chin. "Fooooodddd…"

"Not ready yet," I replied, sending a mug o' joe her way. "It's close, but needs to cool. How 'bout we open presents while we wait?"

The first mouthful of coffee hit her like a jolt of electricity and she sat up, eyes clearing. "Wait, so I wasn't just sleepy and imagining a bunch of decorations?" I nodded and she leaned over to peek into the living room. "Huh. Alright then."

While the two of them headed for the living room, I spread the frosting over the rolls and got myself a cup before joining them. They both had a few presents piled in front of them, with a third for me. "You go first," Cecilly bounced on the spot, a half-wrapped candy cane in her mouth. "Age before beauty, as they say."

"Youth before looks, yes," I grabbed the first thing that caught my eye, a squishy pink package and doesn't that sound dirty. Tearing off the paper revealed a soft, plush scarf, colored with stripes of red, blue and purple. My favorite colors. "Ooh, this feels nice."

"I thought you could use it on your patrols, since it's Winter and everything," my aunt explained, her eyes shining happily as I wrapped it around my neck. She grabbed the present closest to her, a box covered in my sloppy wrapping paper, and tore it open. Inside was a travel mug, big enough to carry thirty-six ounces of liquid, perfect for coffee, tea, or hot cocoa. "Oh! I needed one of these!"

Which was exactly why I got it. Sarah opened her first gift, a large, flat package that was surprisingly heavy, given the size. Her blues widened as she beheld the leather jacket within. "Guys…" she began, her fingers brushing smooth material. "…I don't know what to say…"

"'Thanks?'" My aunt and I said in unison. "Also, 'I like it.' That would be a good start."

"I love it," she murmured, slowly hugging it to her chest as she looked at us. "I'm just…this seems like a bit much for someone you've known a little more than a month."

Cecilly and I shared dry looks. "We're lonely," she replied with a shrug. "And you've been good company, so why not?"

My handler hummed to herself and I decided to bring the attention back to the important stuff. The presents. The next one was pack of pens, which wasn't as crappy a gift as it sounded. They were the kind that write smooth and last almost forever, the same kind that Tinkers use to take notes. I could use one for school… _ugh, school_ …and the other for patrol, or if I had ideas while I was on console duty. "Thanks, Sarah."

"No problem," she said with a smile.

The next gift my aunt opened was also from me; a red knit cap with a violently pink bobble on top that she immediately put on. Sarah received a copy of the big ol' coffee cup, except this one was colored dark blue, just like her eyes. The rest was small stuff, gum, chocolate coins, an orange and Botan rice candy.

But buried underneath those were two more packages for me. They were the same size and shape, though one was wrapped in bright purple paper, while the other was covered in some of the saddest, least-exciting paper I'd ever seen. It was gray, like depression gray. I-can't-go-outside-to-bury-my-dead-dog-because-it's-raining gray.

There was also a note, written in very neat, blocky letters. **I know you can do something with this. -P.**

Well, that was ominous. Carefully, I unpeeled the wrapping and revealed the case of a game. Baldur's Gate. I'd heard of it, of course, but I'd never played, since I was a tadpole when it came out and I prefer shooters. "Weird," I muttered aloud, flipping the box around to look at the description. "Someone sent me a game. They even left a note."

Sarah stuck out a hand and I handed it over. Her brows furrowed. "This is Director Piggot's handwriting," she observed. "Huh."

"Does the Director usually give gifts?" Cecilly asked, pausing in her unwrapping of another candy cane.

"Yeah, the HR mandated stuff, like pens," my handler muttered, "The nicest thing I've ever gotten from her was an eraser shaped like a cat."

"And she sent me an old game," I scratched my chin in thought. "I hope that wasn't her way of calling me obsolete. I mean, I haven't even done two patrols."

"Who knows what the Director thinks?" Sarah shrugged, handing the game back. "What's the last one?"

"It's from me," Cortana announced, somewhat unnecessarily given that the wrapping matched her avatar's color perfectly. "I wanted to save the best for last."

"I'm only slightly insulted," Aunt Cecilly huffed, before scooting forward excitedly. "What is it, what is it?!"

As I expected, unwrapping the gift revealed a game underneath, but not any game I was familiar with. The background was solid red, with the foreground taken by a dude. He was dressed in a skin-tight outfit, red and blue, emblazoned with what looked like a white spider, and seemed to be swinging on some kinda white cord. The name on the cover really just said it all: Marvel's Spider-man. "Spider-man, eh? First Batman, now Spider-Man. What next, Ant-Man? Bee-Man? Wasp? Scorpion?" I passed the game to my aunt. "I've never heard of this guy. What're his abilities? …Besides spider stuff. But what spider stuff?"

"I'll let you figure out the finer details, but here's some of the simpler ones:" Cortana began with a smirk. "He has the proportional strength, speed and agility of a spider. He can also stick to walls."

"What about this web?" Cecilly asked, waving the game around. "Does that, like, come _out_ of him? 'Cause that's not where webs come out of a spider."

"No, that's a device he built." My AI companion turned to me with a coy look on her face. "A _homemade_ device." She waggled her eyebrows, making sure I was picking up what she was putting down.

And I, indeed, was picking up. See, part of the reason I liked Batman was because his gadgets could be remade in real life, all I had to do was access his memory and draw the blueprints. But the bad part about that, is that Batman was also a billionaire with access to cutting-edge future technology; and while we do have some of that here, not all of his gadgets could be replicated cheaply. And if there's one thing a government-oversighted program was loathe to part with, it was money.

Spider-man, on the other hand, had built his stuff from scratch. Which meant that I could access his memories and recreate his stuff with shit I already had or had easy access to. Fuck, I knew two Tinkers who worked close by! "…I know I've said it before, but I love you, Cortana. You're the best," I declared flatly, snatching the game from my aunt and making to march to my room and pop it in.

Except that said aunt had snagged my ankle and glared up at me. "Saul," Cecilly began, her voice dangerously low, "Normally, I'd let you go play after breakfast, but this is our first Christmas in a new city. We _are_ spending today together. We're gonna eat breakfast, play around outside in the snow, go get lunch, play around a bit more before we watch a movie, then our traditional Christmas dinner. Then, and _only_ then, can you play your game."

"B-but…" There was no way I could've said no to my aunt, in that moment or any other. But when was I going to get the chance to play 'immature teenager' again? "But _auntie~_!"

"No 'but's young man!" she ordered, firmly pointing to the kitchen. "Except yours, in a chair, eating breakfast with us."

"Alright," I said simply, setting the game aside. "Who wants cinnamon rolls?"

The next several hours were a happy blur. We ate, probably a bit too much, then bundled up and ran outside to play in the snow. First, we made the biggest, most impressive snowman I can remember ever making, made some snow angels, then got into a snowball fight. My best memories of that time were Aunt Cecilly showing her teeth and completely dominating Sarah and I, at one point beaning my handler in the face before shoving me through our snowman.

Apparently, she was that good because of my mother; something about her being a 'Snow Witch.'

Then we went out for our traditional Christmas Dinner. Chinese food.

We got orange chicken, almond chicken, General Tso's, shrimp fried rice, pork lo-mein, and some dumplings. While we were out, snow had started drifting from the sky in glittering flakes and by the time we were done with lunch, a thin layer of snow had covered everything in a fresh layer of powder.

We went outside again, but it was much less combative that time. Instead, we rebuilt the snowman (who I named Snow Buddies, the Lonely Snowman-because he has no buddies) bigger and better than before, with a proper carrot for a nose and pebbles for a smile.

By that time, we were all pretty tired and cold so we headed inside for hot cocoa and a movie before it was time for dinner. And dinner was our second traditional Christmas meal: Japanese food. Specifically, we went to Taiyang's for teriyaki and potstickers.

Then we went home. Sarah and my aunt popped in another movie while I went to play my new games. Well, the Spider-Man game more than anything else. "Thanks again for this," I told Cortana as I popped the disc in and turned my TV on. "I wish there was something I could give you."

"You could say 'I love you' more often," she offered with a wink and a smile. "But beyond that, there's nothing you can really give me."

"I'll figure out something eventually," I muttered to myself before hitting start. I watched a dude, an averagely handsome dude at that, wake up in a panic after panning around a room full of newspapers and other knick knacks as he pulled on a suit similar to the one on the cover, bar the white. The mask part was even inside out, showing off a bunch of circuitry, being worked on at the table, which boded well.

And then he went diving out of a window…

...And _Holy Shit._

…

Armsmaster set his third cup of holiday cocoa down on his workbench, exactly eight mini-marshmallows bobbing in the steaming liquid. Quiet orchestral music added white noise to the ambiance of his lab as he picked up a soldering iron and got back to work, trying to finish a new addition to his halberd before Christmas was up. A grappling hook, actually, using the basis of Game Master's 'Batman' character (and what kind of ridiculous name was that?) for the miniaturized motorized winch. He'd been working on one for a while, but having an example in front of him had helped him finally put a working piece together.

And the real present, besides the upgraded engine block Dragon had sent him for his motorcycle, was the time he was taking right then, quietly Tinkering. It wouldn't last, nothing did, but it was nice.

It ended a lot sooner than he thought as his door chimed, giving him a second of warning before he opened it up and found a man bouncing on his heels. He didn't recognized the blue and red suit, nor the symbol of a white spider on the chest and he knew every hero in the Brockton Bay PRT.

"Hey Armsmaster, Merry Christmas!" the unknown greeted him cheerfully, "Can I use your lab real quick?"

"N-" Before he could even speak his rebuttal, the unknown hero had slipped around him and practically dashed to an empty workbench, snatching scraps of plastic, metal while firing up his chemistry set. "Whoever you are, you will vacate my lab _immediately_ or I will make you. Forcefully."

"'Whoever I am?'" The spider-themed hero looked up from the table, a white lens widening slightly in an approximation of an arched eyebrow. "Dude, it's me. Game Master. I'm the new guy, remember?"

"Oh." A strange-looking hero he'd never heard of before but acted familiar? That should've been a tip. "Why are you here?"

"I had an idea!" Saul chirped, lens widening innocently. "Actually, I had about twenty ideas but only one is viable right now and the rest depend on this one actually working so I wanted to get it done quickly so I could work on the rest of them!"

Armsmaster blinked once. "Your new character is a Tinker, then?"

"No, actually," said the newest Ward, ignoring the hint that the older hero knew what his powers truly were, "That's the thing! This hero has the proportional strength, speed, agility of a spider and a danger sense without all the weird biological functions of a spider, but the _person_ is a genius who invented most of his own tech! _Including_ the stuff I'm making right now, which will revolutionize the way unpowered officers deal with out of control capes!"

"Will it?" Armsmaster asked flatly, crossing his arms. "We all have ideas like that, but most of them aren't viable."

"Yeah, well, they aren't me," Saul replied simply. "This will be lighter than containment foam, far stronger and simpler to remove and can be modified for almost any sort of situation, not just against capes."

"Like what?"

"Building collapses, fires, car accidents, on-the-spot medical treatment, suicide prevention, emergency naps and storage, etc." he continued, adding chemicals together in a large beaker.

Armsmaster tilted his head in thought. "…Would you like my input?"

"Of course, man."

The older man felt his eye twitch in irritation, but nonetheless joined the younger hero at the workbench. Giving up a bit of his free time was a sacrifice he was willing to make, especially if it did indeed revolutionize cape containment.

It was still nice…if a bit more annoying.

…

 **A Week Later…**

 _ **BWA-BWA-BWA-**_

"GAH!" I fuckin' hate alarm clocks. Even though I know they're necessary, I still hate how obnoxiously loud and sudden the blaring is, especially when I was in the middle of a good dream! And _especially_ when the fuckin' noise makes me jump out of bed!

Those angry thoughts, though, were derailed by a startling realization. I'd jumped out of bed before, yes, but I always rolled off the side and spilled onto the carpet. I'd never jumped six feet straight up and stuck to the ceiling.

"…The hell?" At that point, I was convinced I was still dreaming, even though I remembered taking Spider-Man out the previous night. To be fair, I _had_ been playing it every day the past week, and not in the 'rushing through to see the story' way. I'd been taking my time, looking for every token and backpack to make all the suits, because it was fuckin' fun to swing around at high speeds looking for everything. I was completely looking forward to busting that powerset out on the next patrol, it would've been _so_ kickass.

I figured that, since it was a dream, there'd be a human Cortana around somewhere, possibly jello-wrestling with Glory Girl or Sarah.

…I'm not going to apologize for thinking my handler's attractive. Older or not, scar or not, she was still a good-looking lady. Possibly even more so because of those features.

With no sign of naked ladies or jello, I came to the conclusion that I was, in fact, awake. And somehow I'd retained Spider-Man's spider powers. "Um, Cortana?" I called hesitantly. "A little help, please?"

Her avatar spawned from my phone looking directly at my bed with a smile that was replaced with confusion. Then, her head tilted up and she found me perched on the ceiling. "…I don't see how I can help, exactly," Cortana said faintly, "I can't hack reality."

"I know! How do I get down?" To be honest, I was more than a little freaked out.

"You were crawling around last night," she pointed out calmly.

"Yeah, but that was with HUD and everything! This is…this is _real life_! I don't know how to handle this!" I was definitely panicking. Only slightly.

"You're alright," she murmured soothingly, "Just stop sticking to the ceiling, come down-"

As soon as I stopped wanting to be stuck to the ceiling, I unstuck and fell six feet onto my mattress. It was not pleasant. "…Ow." The pain in my back made me squint my eyes shut, and that brought to attention the little glowing letter in the top left corner of my vision. Somehow, I hadn't seen it, possibly because I was freaking out. "'System Notice?' What does that mean?"

"I think that means your system wants you to notice something," my AI companion replied dryly, her expression softening. "You alright, big guy?"

"Yeah, more surprised than anything," I answered quietly, opening up my Console systems and tapping the notification. "'System Notice: Console System Updated: Natural Trait Activated Chosen by the Spider Totem.'"

"Natural Trait?" Cortana wondered aloud, tapping her chin in thought. "Does it take up one of your trait slots?"

I scrolled over and checked. "No, actually. I can't even see a tab labeled 'Natural Traits.'" I scratched my chin and flexed my fingers, experimentally touching my pillow and sticking it to my hand. "So…am I just Spider-man, now? Because if so…what the actual _fuck?_ "

"You know what they say about bullshit powers," she shrugged, "I can't help but think of this as a good thing, though. Well, it _looks_ good, but I'll need to research this…somehow."

I sat up, waving my pillow around. "This is a comic book character, right? And nerds love things like that, so there's gotta be some kind of lorebook or encyclopedia on the Auction. I hope so, at least."

"True enough," Cortana sighed, "Alright, I'll take a look."

While she went and did that, I grudgingly went to take a shower, the doorknob squealing in protest under my grip. "Oh goddammit." The bad part about suddenly having super strength is the lack of control. That's not a problem when I'm accessing a character, since I also access their memories at the same time which allows me to use their bodies like it's my own. 'Cause it is.

By the time I'd returned, Cortana had a new package resting on the keyboard of my laptop, a thick one that seemed to have broken my spacebar. "Holy shit, what is that?"

"The Marvel Comics Encyclopedia," she explained proudly. "But it's also a physical thing, so I can't exactly read it without your help."

"…You couldn't download a copy?" I asked incredulously.

"I didn't want to," Cortana replied flatly.

"Why?"

"There's no way in hell I'm dedicating any of my shrinking memory to comic books," she retorted snappishly. "I'd rather have memories I actually enjoy."

"Fine, Christ," I muttered, tearing open the package and flipping the cover open. Scanning through the list of chapters, I found the one dedicated Spider-Man (Peter Parker). Apparently, there were others. I had to flick through what felt like an entire book's worth of pages, skipping over something called 'The Clone Saga' 'The Black Suit' and 'Civil War' before I got to the lore section. "…What the hell does this say?"

Cortana read from the pages as I held the book up, her face scrunched in thought. "…I think it says that the Spider Totem is a bunch of deity-like things who choose worthy people to use the spider-powers, generally for good purposes."

"So, since I became a Spider-Man who was chosen by the Spider Totem, _I_ somehow imprinted that on myself…?" That still sounded like complete bullshit to me, and I _know_ bullshit.

She shrugged. "That's the best answer I can think of. I wouldn't really think too much about it, like a bank error in your favor. It happened, you got an extra set of powers you don't need a game for which can only help you in the long run." That sounded like something I _should_ be thinking more about. "Also, if you don't hurry up, you're gonna be late to school."

"Ah, shit." She was right. I hustled around my room, packing all my books and other shit into my backpack and slinging it over my shoulder, quietly chuckling at how weightless it felt, before I made a quick sandwich and headed out the door. I knew Winslow wasn't exactly a beacon of academic excellence or hygienic atmosphere and my phone was very obviously very advanced and expensive-looking, so I left it at home. I did take a small earpiece, like the ones in my visor, which I could use for calls and pretty much nothing else.

Aunt Cecilly was already gone along with the car and Winslow was about eight miles away, so I had to take a city bus to get there. Well, I _would've_ had to, if I'd actually gotten on. Which I didn't.

I'll be honest, my experiences in school really soured me to the whole thing, and I'd purposefully gone from one shit-hole to another. On purpose. And the reason I'd done that (Shadow Stalker being all suspicious and shit) was something I wasn't worried about at the time. I mean, I'd gotten to know her a bit and while her philosophy on life was worrying and pretty stupid, I didn't think she'd be much trouble in civilian life. What was there to worry about?

Instead, I watched the bus pass me by, then ducked into an alley to play with my new powers. Not just game powers, _my_ powers, the powers that belonged to Saul Dewitt, not a video game in my stomach.

…I would later learn that that had been a mistake, one I'd feel immensely guilty and guiltily relieved for.

Because of that, I met someone _very_ important.

…

Sophia Hess pulled her locker open with a scowl, shoving the books she wouldn't need for her first class inside. Her eyes fell on the silver skull ring sitting snug on her right middle finger and allowed herself a small smile, as her thoughts went to one who gave it to her. _What an idiot,_ she thought fondly, tracing the empty eye sockets with her thumb. _Making me feel nice when I think about those blue eyes and that earnest tone…fuck me, what am I doing, thinking about a guy like this? I just want to prove that he's wrong and I'm right, and win the bet. That's_ all _._

… _Though, I will be magnanimous in my victory. And he'll have to do whatever I want…_

She was drawn from her thoughts as her friend, Emma Barnes, nearly skipped up to her in excitement, red hair and large chest bouncing with the motions. "Sophia!" She greeted with a smile, throwing an arm around her shoulders. "How was your Christmas?"

"Fine, family was dumb as always," she shrugged, still rubbing her ring. "You?"

"It's good," Emma replied, her model good-looks curling into an unfriendly smile. "It was better when I thought about what's gonna happen today."

Sophia had to resist the urge to ask 'What's happening today?' before she remembered. "Right, yeah. Can't wait." Her mind had been occupied with…other things.

"Emma, Sophia!" Another girl, their other friend named Madison, skittered up to the pair with a wide-eyed look on her innocently cute face. "I saw Taylor coming this way! Are we still gonna…you know?"

"Oh yeah," Emma chuckled, her pretty face very ugly as she grinned in anticipation. "Time to show that weakling where she belongs."

"Here she comes," Sophia muttered, turning back to her locker and faking interest as she watched a lanky girl with kinky black hair slink up to a locker nearby. As the other girl spun the combination lock, her nose crinkled at the stench hitting her nose.

As Taylor opened her locker, Sophia stepped up behind her, hand raised.

The door opened, revealing the disgusting, toxic mess within, the full force of the stench slamming into Taylor like a trash barge. Unable to hold it in, she vomited into her locker, adding even more vileness to the horrific stew stuffed inside.

As she grasped the back of Taylor's head, Sophia felt a momentary flash of _something_. It took her a second to realize that it was _guilt_ , and the image of disappointed blue eyes passed through her vision.

She hesitated for a second.

Then, she shoved Taylor inside the sewage-filled locker, uncaring of the struggling the other girl made, nor the screech that issued from her mouth or the effort Sophia had to leverage to get her inside.

With a final push, she stuffed Taylor inside, slammed the locker door and spun the lock triumphantly. Sharing a victorious high-five session with Emma and Madison, the three strutted off to class, the muffled metallic screams echoing down the hall behind them.

…

 **Four Hours Later…**

…

Slipping down the back of a Denny's, I grudgingly tamped down my adrenaline and made my way towards Winslow. It was probably lucky that the only working web shooters were locked in Armsmaster's lab, otherwise I would've been swinging around town without care and that wouldn't have been conducive to keeping my identity a secret. As it was, I definitely pushed it just leaping from building to building, climbing up walls and repeatedly backflipping for no real reason.

But the fun had to stop sometime, and there was only so much I could push before I got in trouble with the PRT and my Aunt. I figured, I'd rush in around lunch time, profusely apologize and tell them I'd gotten on the wrong bus, then got turned around downtown, missed the bus back, then missed my stop on the way back and just walked the rest of the way. I was new to both the city and the school district and it was my first day, I was sure they'd accept it with only a little condescension.

I pushed through the heavily-graffitied front doors and felt my lips tug down into a scowl. Winslow _sucked._ Sure, Olympic was bad, but at least it was _clean_. This place was covered in gang tags, mostly ABB and E88 with a few scribbles for the Merchants. I'd only taken a few steps into the place and I already regretted my life choices. As soon as I got to the Rig later, I was gonna ask to be transferred to Arcadia.

Whatever my thoughts, they were forgotten as a wave of _something_ pulsed over the floor and ceiling, dark like an imagined face from the corner of your eye. It met my feet and traveled up through my body, leaving a trail of prickled skin and a sense of violation like a slug wormed its way over my flesh.

Then it impacted _something_ in my brain, a screaming echo reverberating through my skull as a film of black passed over my eyes.

It was only because of my new reflexes that I didn't crack my skull open against the floor. I blinked the film away only to find odd, blocky glitches at the corner of my eyes, a line of bright red text flashing at the top of my vision. **WARNING: SYSTEM MALFUNCTION: EMERGENCY REBOOT**

…Oh. Oh _shit._

It took a second for me to realize what had just happened. I didn't want to think of the implications, but the evidence was clear. I suddenly blacked out, in much the same way as when I'd Triggered. But it clearly wasn't my doing, which meant…

Someone else had just Triggered.

In an instant, I was back in that container, the sharp, metallic edges crushing in from all sides even as I screamed…I could hear a faint echo of it in my head…actually, it sounded very feminine. Tendrils of that _something_ tugged at my brain, the noise fluctuating with every pull and I followed it, up a set of stairs and on to the second floor.

The first thing that hit my senses was a stench, like a hundred dirty diapers being stewed together with the contents of a septic tank. The second was exhausted, quiet sobs.

A chill slid down my spine and I ran towards the smell, resisting the urge to gag as I stopped in front of locker with something awful I didn't want to think about leaking out of the bottom. "…Hello?" I called hesitantly, desperately wishing I was wrong.

There was a disgusting shuffling/sloshing noise followed by a weak tap. "… _Help…"_ A weary, cracking voice answered. " _Help me!"_

"Jesus Christ!" I couldn't help the shout that came out of my mouth as I scrabbled at the combination lock. "What's the combination?!"

" _Let me out! Let me OUT! LET ME OUT!"_

" _I don't know the combination!"_ I hysterically yelled back, my heart thundering in my chest as my mind raced. I resisted the urge to punch the locker, when the answer occured with the ring of a bell. "Hold on!"

Digging my fingers into the door, I planted my feet and yanked. The lock snapped and the door flew open, slamming against the other locker as a girl spilled out into my arms.

She buried her face against my chest, her arms tightly wrapped around my neck as she clutched herself against me, trembling like a leaf. The toxic waste she'd been trapped with came out with her, staining my clothes. I found that I didn't give a shit as I picked her up and made for the stairs, only to pause as I found what seemed to be the entire school standing in the hall.

They were staring, some laughing, most smiling and pointing as if we were a funny exhibit. Three of them stood out the most: a short, cute brunette who watched with a bit of forced glee, a hot redhead with amusement glittering in her eyes, and an athletic black girl with an air of smug satisfaction.

And I felt something I'd only felt once before: _Rage_. Furious, murderous rage that burned so hot it went cold, so cold that my arms started to shake.

…

Sophia drank in the sight, not so much the smell, of victory as she watched some guy she'd never seen before carry that loser Taylor away, covered in the shit they belonged in. The other people laughed aloud and jeered at the two, and her lips curled into a smile as she thought of the perfect cherry on top of her victory sundae.

"Here comes the bride, all dressed in white~!" she started, nudging Madison and Emma into joining in. Soon, the hall echoed in mocking song and the guy went stiff. Slowly, almost mechanically, he set Taylor down against the wall of lockers and peeled her arms off of him. He whispered something to her and stepped away. "Hey, look who's come to their senses! As long as it isn't smell!"

He spun on his heel, a wave of silence following as his eyes swept across the crowd before landing on them. Sophia felt her stomach drop out as arctic blue orbs pierced into her mind like spears of ice, leaving her locked in place. Distantly, as the eyes grew to overtake her vision, she heard an odd, echoing crack; which she unconsciously recalled hearing in a nature documentary about glaciers.

With a blink, she realized the guy had stepped closer between heartbeats. Then, his fist crashed against her face and she hit the ground, stunned.

Saul slowly turned to look at a gaping Emma, then turned his gaze on Madison, who flinched violently. With a knowing nod, he turned around and picked Taylor back up. Silence followed as he descended the stairs and vanished from sight.

…

…I probably shouldn't have done that. Punching out some random chick wasn't going to look good, even if I wasn't a Ward and held to certain higher degree of standards. But, in my defense, she'd started singing _Here Comes the Bride_ while I was carrying a girl away from the locker she'd been stuffed in…which was also full of _toxic waste._

How the _hell_ could anyone _laugh_ at that-that _torture?_ Just the thought of being shoved in a space that small, metal closing on all sides, squeezing the breath out of you with every agonizing second…

The answer is, of course, that most people fuckin' _suck_. The only ones who don't are rare and unfortunately weighed down by all the others. "Where the hell is the nurse's office?" I asked myself, resisting the urge to growl.

Hesitantly, the girl in my arms lifted a hand and pointed down the hall. "O-one room down from the f-front desk," she muttered, shivering violently even as she curled closer against me.

"Thanks. Don't worry, I'll get you there ASAP," I reassured gently, picking up the pace and nearly kicking open the door. "She needs help!"

The nurse jumped at the sudden intrusion, spinning around in her chair with an affronted look. "What in the-" She shot up as her eyes took in our appearance, "-Good Lord, what happened?!"

"She was shoved into a locker full of toxic waste," I replied quickly, nearly bouncing the girl out of my arms. "Help her, please!"

"Over here," said the woman, directing me to a nearby shower in another room, "We need to get that… _stuff_ off of her as quickly as possible."

She directed me to a nearby stall, her hands tugging on the girl's shoulders. She refused to let go, however, and held on to me even tighter. "C'mon, let go. You need to get clean," I tried to reason with her, but she shook her head silently. "Seriously, you could get really sick." The girl didn't even bother to make any sort of reply. "Damn, uh…how about I hold your hand through the whole thing, okay? I'll keep my eyes closed and face away, but I'll be here the entire time, alright?"

I felt her hesitantly nod against my shoulder and uncurl out of my arms. The nurse helpfully handed me a length of cloth that I tied around my eyes before taking the girls hand and turning my head away. In the darkness, I heard her shuffle and the sound of wet clothes slapping against the floor, with her quickly releasing my hand to pull her shirt off before retaking it. I stumbled a bit as she pulled on my arm before I heard the sound of water running. Reaching out, I felt a wall in front of me and I rested my head against it, only then just realizing how awkward it was to hold someone's hand while they showered.

"Um, Nurse?" I said aloud, trying to pull my mind away from the naked girl three feet away from me. "As much as you might want to burn those clothes, can you bag them? Whoever did this definitely committed assault and the clothes are evidence."

"It's Doris, and you're right. Dear Lord, when I get my hands on whoever did this…" Over the running water and frantic scrubbing, I could hear the nurse muttering to herself. "I'll also need yours after you shower."

"Ah." Yeah, it was easy to forget after getting caught up in the moment, but I was also covered in that nasty shit. Not quite as bad as the girl, but having even a drop of that waste on me was a health hazard. It also meant I'd have to be naked in front of two ladies. "Yeah, you have a point."

"You don't have anything I haven't seen before, young man," she reminded me gently. "If it helps, I'll look away when the time comes."

"Thanks." Still didn't make me feel better about it, but it did put the situation the girl was in into perspective. As did the whole 'trapped in a tiny place' thing.

Eventually, she finished cleaning herself and was quickly dried off by the nurse. "O-okay," she said shakily, her hand slowly leaving mine. "I-I think I'm good…for now…"

"Wonderful, dear, wonderful. Here are some clothes, they may be a little ill-fitting, but they're a damn sight better than the others," Nurse Doris replied, and I heard the shuffling of clothes. "Now come on, you need some rest and heat. I'll call your father and an ambulance."

"O-okay."

When the door closed behind them, I pulled my blindfold off and quickly divested myself of my stinking clothes. Whoever shoved that girl in the locker had a lot to answer for, not just for that, but also ruining my clothes! I'd bought them for my first school day after I adjusted my body, and I liked them. Of course, given just _how_ they were soiled, I'd call it a worthy sacrifice.

I'd just stepped into the shower with the water blazing hot, when Doris entered the room. She carefully bagged my dirty clothes and set a towel and a clean pair on the bench. "What's your name, son?" She asked, setting the bag with the other. "I'll need to call your guardian."

"Saul Dewitt," I replied, lathering my hands with soap before scrubbing furiously. "The lady you want to call is Sarah Hargrove, she'll know what to do."

"…Dewitt?" She muttered, so low I almost didn't hear it over the running water. "Isn't that…?"

"Yeah."

"Oh. Oh dear." The nurse bustled about, making tutting noises. "Well, I can't think of a worst first impression for a new student, let alone a…you."

"To be fair, it wasn't good on both sides," I did, after all, punch out a girl. She might've been a fucking asshole, but it's not like she was the one who did it. That would probably reflect badly on me. Although, she did seem to take the most enjoyment out of it. "Alright, I'm clean…okay, I'm clean _enough._ " There was no answer, as the nurse had already left.

I dried myself off and pulled on the clothes, grimacing slightly at the poor fit around my crotch. There were also a pair of slippers which I stepped into and went back into the office proper. Nurse Doris was on the phone while the girl was curled up on one of the cots, her damp hair clinging to her face. As soon as I entered, she held out a hand pleadingly and I immediately went to her side and took it.

There was a bandage on her forehead, as well as on her hands and knees. "How are you feeling?"

She shivered, scooting closer to me. "…Like I'll never be clean again," she whispered, squeezing her eyes shut. "…This-this isn't a dream, right? I'm not still s-stuck in…in _there?_ "

"You're definitely not," I reassured, patting the back of her hand. "By the way, I keep calling you 'girl' in my head and that just seems disingenuous. I mean, with all the chaos it's understandable that we didn't get to introduce ourselves. My name's-" A sudden, loud ringing made my tumble out of my seat with a shout. "JESUS!"

I pawed at the side of my head, yanking the damp earpiece out of my ear hole. I stared at it, uncomprehending, until I finally remembered what it was. "Oh shit, this has been in my ear all day," I said aloud, holding it up. "I forgot all about it. God, I can be _really_ dumb sometimes."

The girl let out a slightly hysterical giggle. "I-I think it's understandable," she said with a wobbly smile.

Putting the piece back in, I answered the call while making a note to change the ringtone to something less ear-blasting. "Hello?"

" _Hey, Saul,"_ it was Sarah, her voice tight even as the sound of a revving engine filtered in from the background. " _So, I just got a call from Winslow's nurse, and it sounds like there was an altercation of some sort. On your first day. With a civilian. Care to explain?"_

"I will once you're here, but you should know that it was entirely justified," I said casually, "though I will take whatever punishment that's coming my way, I'm not sorry. At all. Not even a little."

Sarah sighed. " _Alright, fine, I'll need to draw up an incident report and get your statement. Did you use your powers at all?"_

"Nope, I just punched someone in the face."

I could practically _feel_ the resignation through the phone. " _Be there in a few minutes. Try not to get into any more trouble, please?"_

"I'll try." I hung up, scratching my chin in thought before I nearly slapped myself. How did I not think of it before? I'll just load the save I made last night, come to school early and stop this shit from ever occurring! Great idea, me!

…It was an off day for me, shut up.

"I gotta go to the bathroom, I'll be right back," I said to the girl, patting her hand gently. Exiting the room, I shook myself out and rolled my shoulders. "Alright, load game."

 _ **ERROR. SYSTEM REBOOTING. SAVE/LOAD FUNCTION NOT AVAILABLE AT THIS TIME.**_

…

…

WHAT?! ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?! I bit down on my hand to muffle the scream that came from my mouth. " _USELESS FUCKING VIDEO GAME POWERS!"_

As if to add insult to injury, a soft chime rang in my ear and the message changed. **System Successfully Rebooted. Autosaving…Done.**

" _Arrrrgh!"_ I was less successful that time, and a light rapping came from the door.

"Is everything alright in there?" Nurse Doris asked.

I stepped back into the nurse's office and gave her a strained smile. "Yup, just…thinking about how much trouble I'm gonna be in. It's not gonna be fun." I sighed deeply. "Well, not much I can do about it now, sorry for the noise." I sat back down and took the girl's hand again. "Anyway, my name's Saul Dewitt."

"I-I heard," she replied quietly. "I'm Taylor-"

The door to the office was thrown open and in came some of the last people I wanted to see. The redhead was muttering to the black girl, who was clutching a bunch of bloody tissues to her nose and growling while the brunette wrung her hands nervously. The trio froze as they saw me sitting at the bed, and Taylor buried her face in the pillow. "You," the redhead snarled, her pretty face twisting into something ugly. "I hope you like being some guy's bitch! My dad's a lawyer, and he'll be all too happy to charge you to the full extent of the law!"

"Ooh, ominous," I said dryly, pointing at my flat expression, "This is my scared face. I'm so scared right now."

The black girl flumped down on the bed adjacent, grimacing as she swapped out the bloody tissues for clean ones before glaring at me. "You brode my node," she muttered thickly, "I'll breag your armb."

"Uh-huh." The door opened once again, this time admitting a caucasian lady in a slightly-formal pantsuit. The odd thing was, she looked familiar. Brown eyes, brown hair, a light spattering of freckles across her nose; she was possibly one of the most average women I'd ever seen, and yet I still kinda recognized her.

"Sophia, what happened?" she asked, her eyes on the black girl, her tone one of resigned detachment.

"Thad sonnufbitge brode my node, Jeddica!" Sophia snapped back, jabbing a finger at me. The woman, 'Jessica,' possibly, leveled a glare at me as she crossed her arms.

"You have no idea what kind of trouble you are in, young man," she said sternly, as if I should be scared. She had exactly nothing on my aunt, or Director Piggot. Man, I was _not_ looking forward to that conversation.

"I'm here!" Sarah rushed into the room, her eyes falling on me for a brief second before being distracted by the other woman. "Cohen? What are you doing here?"

"Hargrove?" The other woman replied confusedly. "What? Why are you here?"

A chill began to worm its way down my spine, and got worse as I connected the dots. Sarah worked for the PRT as my handler, and she recognized the other woman which jogged my memory. I'd seen her walking around the Rig once or twice, which meant she _also_ worked for the PRT. She immediately locked onto Sophia, with a familiarity borne of, well, familiarity. She was a handler. For a _Ward._ And there was only one other Ward at Winslow.

Unbidden, my eyes landed on Sophia just as she looked at me, an odd expression, possibly one of guilt, fear or shock on her face. Then, my eyes trailed down her arm, following dark skin until I found her right hand resting on the cot. And the silver skull ring on her finger.

Shadow Stalker. Sophia was Shadow Stalker.

…Son of a _bitch._

…

…

…

…

 **A/N: So yeah, quite a bit just went down and the implications are definitely going to come into play soon. There's quite a lot to unpack, here, mostly 'Natural Traits,' and Sophia's actions.**

 **Kuro: I'd say 'son of a glitch,' but puns being puns…ah well, here's to hoping we'll see a change from the bullying behavior.**

 **Not a glitch, it's a feature. Funnily enough, I'd originally planned this chapter out with Saul playing Fallout while he ran around, grinding EXP for discovering locations, but that ran into a sudden problem: Marvel's Spider-Man is fucking** _ **kick ASS.**_ **I've had my own thoughts about adding it in eventually, but NorthSouth convinced me to add it in now, and the ramifications, immediate and long-term, were too good to pass up.**

 **NS: Glad to contribute.**

 **Which brings us to the new thing: Natural Traits. The simple explanation is that powers with strong metaphysical elements, the Spider Totem in this case, can have surprising effects on Saul and the world as a whole. Some good, most not so much, but it'll be interesting. Especially since, you know, Spider powers, Taylor's power…wink.**

 **And as for Sophia: I think I pretty much stated it last chapter. One conversation isn't going to change the way someone's been acting for years. Yeah, maybe she hesitated for a second, but she still did it. Whatever redemption might come her way, it's not going to come easily.**

 **Dairegh: Speaking from experience, people really, really don't want to change. Most often they'll even ignore good advice in order to justify staying the same, especially when they like who they are… or at least think they do. So SS still doing bad stuff despite any sort of pressure from Saul to do better is… not unexpected.**

 **But yeah, things are only going to get more chaotic from here. Not just story-wise, but in real life! I am, as of October 9th, turning Twenty-four.**

 **I'm also moving across the country to Florida in about a month or two. So, either there's going to be a lot of updated because I'll be super bored traveling; or complete silence because I'll have no internet connection while I'm super bored and traveling.**

 **Big thanks, as always, to NorthSouthGorem, Dairegh, Kurogane7, ARJ3333 and dem people for all the help, ideas, and all that good shit. Give em a look and a shout from me, will ya?**

 **Stay Awesome.**

 **~Soleneus**

 **P.S.: I know some people are gonna be like 'why'd he act that way? Why'd this guy do blah-de-blah-blah' and the short answer is that the main characters are teenagers. And teenagers are fucking stupid. It's hard to admit, I know, but it's true.**

 **Plus, you know…chaos.**

 **Stay Awesome Some More.**

 **~still Soleneus**


	7. Out of the Locker

Sophia connected the dots as the boy on the opposite cot looked down at her ring and his eyes widened. _GM…oh no._ That bolt from before struck again, and it didn't take her long to recognize it as guilt. Not guilt for what she'd done to that loser Taylor, guilt that someone she wanted to the see the best of her had seen too much too fast. Except…

…He hadn't. She'd seen him handle muggers and thieves, and he tended to be very rough with them. All he'd done to her was punch her in the face; if he had seen her shoving that loser in the locker, he would've done worse. There was still a chance.

Sophia felt a shiver go down her spine as GM's eyes, normally earnest and expressive, went flat and almost lifeless. "The situation's changed," he said flatly, glancing at the two handlers. "This is an in-house problem."

Her handler, Jessica Cohen, figured it out as did his, and the two stepped out of the room for a hurried conversation. "I don't know what's going on," Emma growled, sneering at GM and curled-up form of Taylor, "But it won't make any difference when-"

Shadow Stalker elbowed the redhead in the side, and not gently. "Shuddup, Emba," she snapped thickly, ignoring the hurt and incredulous look Emma gave at the recrimination in favor of looking at GM. "DMb, lidden-"

His cold eyes snapped up to glare at her, saying nothing but speaking volumes. _Oh, I'll_ listen… _Later._ His gaze softened as the nurse set her phone down and turned to them. "An ambulance is on it's way, son," she said softly, before busying herself with bandages and disinfectant. "Now, let me see that nose."

GM grunted, standing and hefting Taylor's thin, lanky form in his arms with ease, and Sophia felt a spike of something hot and uncomfortable in her stomach. "Thanks, Doris," he said gruffly, his eyes sweeping over the three girls before he turned away. "I'll wait for it outside."

"Waid!" Sophia pushed past the nurse, her hand grasping at his bicep and nearly dislodging Taylor; as much as she would've liked to see that, she focused on his visage. Up close, she could see the Asian elements of his face; the shape of his eyes, a smaller nose, but his eyes pierced her like icy knives. "Dond lidden do a word she sads. She'd a liar, eberyone knowds id." Thankfully, the clotted blood in her nose hid the desperate edge in her words.

GM looked at her for a few silent seconds, before his eyes fell on her fingers banded around his arm. He glanced back up at her and frowned.

Sophia subtly swallowed and stepped back, letting him leave without any more interference. Her eyes followed his back as it grew smaller, and she sighed quietly. … _Fuck._

…

I knew Shadow Stalker had some problems, but to laugh and mock Taylor after something that horrible? Fuck me, how blind am I? I should've been keeping an eye on her, I should've followed up on my suspicions, but I was too blinded by the slim possibility of a girl liking me to notice. And the worst part was, I couldn't even go back and and fix it because my _fucking_ Save System rebooted and auto-saved! After having the power for months, _not_ having it is very freaky and I don't fucking like it.

Luckily, my actual powers didn't get disabled, but it did bring up a worrying possibility. Would my system reboot and auto-save every time I was near a Trigger? And, more important at that time, how would I tell Taylor that she Triggered? It's not something to bring up lightly, but it was definitely important. After she was calmer and on the mend seemed like the best time.

I pushed open the front doors and sat on the bottom steps, Taylor held securely in my arms, her face buried in my shoulder. She wasn't trembling quite as much anymore, and seemed more exhausted than anything. "I didn't get your last name, before all that noise," I said quietly, propping her on my lap while I rubbed her back slowly.

"Hebert," she muttered, shivering slightly. "S'cold."

"I'd offer my jacket, but it's in a bag back in the nurse's' office," I chuckled quietly. "I'm sorry, by the way."

"For what?"

"A lot of things, but I've been carrying you around, I'm holding on to you now, and I never really got the chance to ask if you were alright with that."

"S'alright," Taylor mumbled, curling up even further. "Y-you got me out of there…I-I'm fine with it…" A distant siren echoed through the crisp afternoon air and I sighed, imagining the flurry of activity that was coming with it.

It took a bit of effort, but I managed to not send her spilling out of my arms as I stood up and the ambulance came around the corner. The sirens died down as it pulled to a stop in front of us, a pair of EMTs piling out of the back with a crash cart. Taylor started shaking slightly as I held her out and set her on the cart, and it only got worse as one secured her arms while the other affixed a neck brace. "It's alright, Taylor," I assured her, before turning to one of the medics. "Take it easy with the restraints, she-"

"It's standard procedure, kid," he replied dismissively, locking her ankles in place. "This way, people don't get tossed around in the back while we drive."

"I know that," I said tersely, "But she was-"

They continued to ignore me and prepared to haul Taylor into the back of the ambulance. She looked up stiffly, her eyes going wide as she saw the metal confines of the ambulance and began to wriggle, whimpering desperately, "No no no no _no no no no-"_

Her anxiety struck me like a lightning bolt. Without thinking, I pushed one of the EMTs aside and stepped into the ambulance, one hand finding hers while the other came to rest on her forehead. "It's alright, Taylor, you're safe. Don't think about anything else, just look into my eyes. I'm here for you." I turned a glare on the medic, "She's been trapped in a locker for several hours, tight spaces aren't her friend right now." Or mine, for that matter.

He made a sheepish face but I ignored him, turning my focus back on Taylor even as the doors shut and the ambulance began to rumble. I did feel a little weird, being so touchy-feely with someone I'd just met, but awkwardness was thrown out the window when I saw just how grateful she was for efforts. That made it all worth it.

During the ride, the exhaustion of her ordeal caught up to her and she slowly fell asleep. It was pretty cute to watch, too, seeing her blink, blink, just about go under before jerking awake. Kinda like watching a sleepy puppy, but with a bandage on her head. Funnily enough, when she finally conked out my own bad feelings about being in a tight metal box faded and I was able to relax and think about what would come.

They'd have to treat the scrapes and hopefully that toxic shit from her locker hadn't seeped too deeply into her bloodstream, but with the way my luck had been going…Actually, there was an easy way to make sure she'd be taken care of; calling Glory Girl and seeing if her sister would be down for giving her a check up. I mean, I could also pop in Disgaea or Final Fantasy, but then I wouldn't get to talk to Glory Girl and meet her sister, even if I end up owing her a favor.

Plus there's that video I have to show her.

As the ambulance pulled into the hospital, I let go of Taylor's hand and watched as they wheeled her into the building, following a nurse to a room. There was a small battery of tests but nothing was found, so she wrote me up a prescription of antibiotics and I was on my way to find Taylor's room. I had to stop and ask for directions, then show them my Ward ID before I was told where it was and given a warning that I couldn't enter until the doctors were done.

That was fine with me, so I parked my ass by the door and rang up Gallant. "Hey, Gallant, it's Game Master," I said, making sure there was no one within earshot. "Can I have Glory Girl's number? I need to ask her for a favor."

"… _What kind of favor?"_ I can't blame him for being a little leery, if I could feel other people's emotions, I'd be wary of a guy with a crush on my girlfriend as well.

"Not so much a favor from her as it's her sister," I clarified, giving a pair of doctors a side-eye as they shuffled by. "There was an… _incident_ and someone's been injured and exposed to toxic waste."

"… _Oh."_ There was a quiet shuffling before he rattled off a number and I realized I had no way of writing it down; I mean, I _had_ three pens and a notepad in my jacket, but that was back at Winslow. I found a desk and asked the nurse there for a sticky note and a pen, then wrote it down. " _Just so you know, I requested that we partner up for patrols the next week."_

I mean, suspicion is one thing… "Alright, but just so you know, I might not be on patrol the next couple of days or so."

" _Because of the incident?"_

"Yeah."

" _Alright, well, I can adjust to that. See you later."_

"Later." Hanging up, I dialed the number he gave me and let it ring.

" _Glory Girl, flying free from school early today! Who's this?"_ Her cheerful greeting rang in my ear, brightening my so-far shitty day just a tad.

"It's Game…" A nurse hurried by, face buried in her clipboard and she almost ran into an opening door, another nurse pushing a thin man out of the room on a wheelchair. When they were out of earshot, I continued. "Master. Listen, I need a favor."

" _Another one?"_ Her amusement came over the phone clearly, " _I'm starting to think that's all I am to you, a favor machine."_

"Hey now," I made sure not to say anything that could be misconstrued as flirting, "I have your repayment for the first one, and this is less for you and more your sister. Unless you've learned how to heal in the last couple of weeks."

"… _Okay, now I'm interested. I haven't heard any super-scuffles today, so this has gotta be personal. Alright, I'll grab my sis and bring her to the hospital…which one is it, by the way?"_ I hoped she wasn't going to pry too closely, though I doubt Gallant would hold back the news of my 'scuffle' with Shadow Stalker.

"Bay General, the one closest to Winslow," I replied, sighing in silent relief. "Do I wanna know what you'll want in return for this favor?"

" _Oh, I'll think of something…"_ she said mischievously. And I won't lie, my mind instantly went somewhere dirty. " _Be there in ten!"_

Confident Taylor would be taken care of, I leaned back against the wall and closed my eyes. My stomach rumbled a reminder that I'd been fucking around for hours on just a sandwich, and my newly-enhanced body needed a lot more food than before. Unfortunately, I also didn't have my friggin' wallet. Tapping my earpiece again, I called Sarah. "Hey, it's me. Can you grab my wallet from my jacket? And also swing by my house and grab my phone."

" _Already did that,"_ my handler replied gruffly. " _I don't know why you broke Shadow Stalker's nose, but I hope it was a good reason."_

"It definitely felt like it at the time," I sighed, rubbing the bridge of my nose tiredly. "I'm sorry for all the trouble, Sarah, I really am, but the situation…"

There was a soft exhale on the other end. " _Whatever happened, I'll stick by your side, kid,"_ she said gently. " _You're not getting rid of me that easily."_

"…Thanks," I murmured, groaning quietly as my stomach growled again. "Please hurry, I'm starving."

Sarah chuckled. " _I'm just pulling in, see you in a sec."_

"Floor 2, Room 216," I rattled off before she hung up. Checking a nearby clock, I discovered that not even five minutes had passed. I got up and went to wait by the elevators, standing there for only a few seconds before the doors slid open and my handler stepped out, my wallet and phone held in one hand. "Fancy meeting you here."

"It's almost like you knew I was coming," she shot back, not missing a beat. "Here's your stuff. The rest of it's being power-washed…probably three times in a row."

"Thanks. I'm going to grab some food, you want anything?"

"I was finishing lunch when I got that call," Sarah said dryly, pushing a loose lock of hair out of her face. "I have to handle the paperwork from this little visit, then I'll come find you. Please don't punch any more people in the meantime."

"Not unless they deserve it," I answered, heading for the cafeteria. There, I bought several sandwiches, a few bottles of gatorade and half a dozen apples before returning to wall outside of Taylor's room. My phone buzzed as I tore into a sandwich, it was a text from Cortana. _A couple hours by yourself and you end up in the hospital. I really can't leave you alone, can I?_

 _Nope. ;)_ As soon as I replied, the screen changed and my phone rang, my earpiece buzzing in response. "Hello?"

" _Hey, we're here but, ah…which floor did you say you were on?"_ Glory Girl's voice comes through with a sheepish tinge, followed by a muffled chuckle.

"I didn't," I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose, "Sorry, it's been an off day for me. Second floor, sixthteenth door. I'm sitting outside of it."

" _Alright, be there in a sec!"_

I took the phone away from my ear, washing a mouthful of bread and turkey down with a swig of gatorade, opening the screen as Cortana texted me again. _You know you aren't wearing a mask, right?_

 _They would've found out sooner or later,_ I reply with a halfhearted shrug, polishing off my sandwich as the elevator doors open, admitting Glory Girl in all her white-clad attractiveness with another girl at her side. She was shorter, curly locks of brown hair escaping the white hood she wore, with a scarf pulled up over her nose like a mask. Her eyes were tired, ringed with dark circles but within burned a quiet determination.

That was Panacea, bio-kinect and one of the greatest healers in the US, the multiple red and white crosses on her robe marking her out as a medic. Unbidden, the Chief's tactical mind rose inside, whispering in my ear. ' _Neutralize her first to lower morale, then incapacitate the others.'_ I filed that away in my hidden plotting cabinet under the joint heading of 'If I Turn Evil/If They Turn Evil.' It's not something I wanted to think about, but it could've come in handy.

Glory Girl's eyes fell on me, her brow scrunching up confusedly before I waved and the two of them came my way, blonde hair bouncing in response. "Game Master?"

"Yeah," I nod in reply, pushing away from the wall, "Just call me Saul out of uniform." I held my hand out, even though we'd met before. "Saul Dewitt."

"Nice to meet you, Saul, call me Vicky," Glory Girl giggled lightly, taking my hand and shaking it firmly, though she didn't squeeze as hard. Her fingers stayed locked around mine even after the shake was done and she tilted her head, blue eyes peering at me. "You know, you're kinda cute."

I couldn't help the heat that flooded to my cheeks, though I managed to resist the urge to duck and hide my face. "Thanks…you too?" I offer awkwardly, and it was a relief when Vicky let go of my hand and I could offer it to Panacea. "Hi there. I'm a big fan."

Her eyes flick up to the top of my head, at least five inches above her own and I can see the thoughts behind her eyes, like she's trying to decipher if I was making a joke or not. I actually wasn't, but that would've been a good one if I had. "Amy," she finally said, shaking my hand briefly. "Who's the patient?"

"Her name's Taylor," I answered, cracking open the door and peering inside, finding it empty except for Taylor. Huh. The doctor's must have left while I was getting food. "I don't know how long she was inside of it, but she was shoved inside a locker full of some _disgusting_ shit. I don't even know what it was, but it was _vile._ "

Their sounds of disgust and unhappiness do nothing to rouse the girl sleeping under the thin blankets, her lanky form almost swallowed up by the expanse of the bed. And it's not like those are huge to begin with. "She's asleep," Panacea noted. At my curious look, she explained, "I prefer to get permission to heal, since my abilities are rather invasive. Unless they're literally on the edge of death or can't speak."

"Oh," I muttered, scratching my head. "Well, shit. I don't know when she'll wake up, so…" I offered my bag o' food. "Sandwich?"

Vicky grabbed a turkey sandwich while Panacea took an apple, the blonde heroine unwrapping and taking a bite out of it before asking, "You got that picture?" Somehow, she didn't spray crumbs when she said that.

"Better," I replied, shining an apple on my shirt while I removed my phone from my pocket. "I got video." She crowded around it, her sister peering over interestedly as I scrolled through the menu and found the video.

 _(Christmas Night)_

 _As we were packing away and throwing out leftovers and empty boxes, respectively, I glanced at Sarah and cocked an eyebrow in question. A quick smirk flitted over her face as she nodded, discreetly handing me the photo behind Cecilly's back. "Oh Auntie, I just remembered something," I said, my aunt looking up from her cleaning. "I've got one more present for you, but it's a surprise. Close your eyes."_

" _It's not something lame, like a kiss or a hug, right?" She asked dryly, but closing her eyes all the same._

" _It's not. Hold out your hand." When she did so, I put the photo in her hand and stepped back to watch her reaction._

 _She peeled one eye open to peer at the picture in her hands before both eyes flew open and bulged rather alarmingly. Shakily, her skin paling, she turned the photo over and read the comments written there._

 _Something high-pitched split the air, and it took me a few seconds to realize that it was coming from my aunt before she burst into motion, hopping up and down while clutching the picture to her chest. Then she turned to me and before I could react, she'd slammed into me like a lithe, thirty-year old freight train and I hit the ground, my phone flying out of my pocket and hitting the floor._

(Presently)

Glory Girl shoved the back of her fist against her mouth as she laughed around a mouthful of sandwich and Panacea chuckled quietly behind her scarf, while I shifted my shoulders in remembrance of the pain hitting the floor like that had caused. "My phone shut off at that point, but afterwards she kissed my face. Like, a lot of kissing, it actually made my face hurt." That was a good memory, one I'd cherish forever. "Totally worth it."

"That was priceless!" Vicky crowed, giggling to herself. "She looked like a kid that got told she was going to Disney World or something!"

"It _is_ nice to see how big a fan she is," Amy added softly, playing with a loose curl of hair. "I wonder how mother would react if they met."

"They'd probably hear the squeal all the way in Boston," I said dryly, taking a bite of my apple as the girls laughed. The jovial atmosphere dropped as a quiet shuffling made itself known, and we turned to find Taylor shifting uneasily on the hospital bed. It wasn't long before she awoke with a gasp, eyes flickering over the room before landing on me. Before I was really aware of it, I'd crossed the distance between us and taken her hand. "It's alright, Taylor, you're in the hospital."

"…Hospital?" She muttered weakly, her eyes slightly unfocused. "So…it wasn't a dream…"

"More like a nightmare," I muttered under my breath, before speaking up. "Unfortunately not, I'm sorry to say. But you'll be taken care of, I promise."

"'Kay," she mumbled, blinking hard as she peered at the New Wave heroines. "Who're they? They look familiar, but I can't see a lot without my glasses…"

"My name's Amy, but I'm called Panacea," the medic introduced softly, coming to stand on Taylor's other side, "And that's my sister, Vicky, Glory Girl."

Taylor nodded sleepily, barely acknowledging the names until they sunk in a second later. Then, her eyes bulged in surprise and she sat up fast enough I thought she might've given herself whiplash, staring at them uncomprehendingly. "Y-you're-you're actually-?"

"In the flesh!" Glory Girl greeted with a cheery wink. "Saul over here asked us to come over so you can get healed at the hands of the best!"

Taylor slowly looked at me, her eyes still wide. "…And you just, what, called them?" She asked faintly.

"Pretty much," I shrugged, taking another bite out of my apple. "Let's get you fixed up, alright?"

Taking that as her cue, Amy held out her hand. "Do I have your permission to heal you?" She asked carefully, her eyes serious. Taylor nodded and took her hand, the healer's eyes glazing over slightly as she frowned.

"You're undernourished," she said disapprovingly, and I helpfully traded my hand in Taylor's for a sandwich, which she started to eat. "You're going to need a lot more food for…hmm…"

"What?" I felt a bit worried at the the hum Panacea made. Had she found something horrible? Embarrassing? Horribly embarrassing? And if so, I shouldn't be in the room with them.

"There's the beginnings of an infection," Amy noted blithely, her expression twisting under her scarf. "But there's something else…do you work out, Taylor?"

Taylor blinked at the sudden question. "Uh…does playing the flute count?" She asked after finishing her sandwich.

Glory Girl snorted. "Nope."

"Your muscles, your nervous system…they're dense and react incredibly fast, but if I'm reading this right, this only happened less than an hour ago." Her eyes flicked up to Taylor's forehead and the lines around her eyes tightened. "Oh…I'm sorry, Taylor. Here."

The bedridden girl glanced questioningly at me before letting go of my hand to scratch at the bandage on her head, then peeling it off to reveal slightly shiny pink skin. Her hand descended to rub her eyes and I could see her pupils dilating oddly. She blinked and looked up at me, pausing for second before realization crossed her face. "You fixed my eyes?" she asked Panacea incredulously.

"Glasses will just get in the way," the healer said vaguely, before frowning. "You need more food."

Helpfully, I opened my sack o'food and grabbed another sandwich along with an apple. "I got three bottles of gatorade, fruit punch, orange and blue raspberry," Without really thinking, I grabbed the orange and cracked it open. My mind was on something else, something that pricked my interest. It's well known that Panacea can't use her powers on the brain, but…she _just_ fixed Taylor's eyes. Those things directly connect to the brain, and even if it was just fixing the lenses, that was still suspicious.

Amy sighed, patting Taylor's hand once before letting it go. "That's all I can do for you right now, though you'll need to stay the night for observation. It's hospital policy."

"Oh. I thought I'd be in here for like, a week, so thank you." Taylor said bashfully, clearing her throat before quietly asking, "If…if it's not too much trouble…could I have your autograph?"

"Of course!" Vicky chimed in, pulling a pen and a notepad from her pouches with practiced ease. With a grin and a flourish, she signed the paper and hand it to Panacea, who put her signature down and pulled the page out.

Taylor took it with a face screaming disbelief, and it was a much better look for her than the traumatized girl I'd only just gotten to know. "T-thank you…" The shaky smile she gave just about lit up the room, it was so bright.

"Anything for a fan," Vicky winked.

"Can you give me a quick check, too?" I asked the healer, offering my hand. "I pulled her out of there and while I don't have any open cuts or anything…better to be safe than sorry." Amy took my hand and I felt an odd shiver crawling over my skin, like my Spider-Sense knew she was using her powers to look at my body. "Just a quick check, alright?"

Panacea's eyes went wide. "What is…how does-?" Her gaze narrowed on my chest, but her mind was focused on something only she could see. "Oh. Oh my."

"Hey. Hey. Hey now," I snapped my fingers, trying to distract her from looking too closely at my DNA. Probably shouldn't have asked her to take a look, then. "I said just a quick check, and here you are undressing me with your eyes! What kinda guy do you think I am?"

Amy blinked at me, uncomprehending for a few seconds before she understood what I was saying. Then the visible parts of her face went red and she dropped my hand like she'd been scalded by my hotness. "O-oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-" She coughed into her fist, visibly gathering herself. "Please, excuse me. I see no signs of infection, you're good to go. Now, I have to make my rounds. I-it was nice to meet you."

Then she turned on her heel and hurried out of the room, leaving a brief moment of silence that was broken by Glory Girl giggling. "Ooh, my sister's being _we~ird!_ " She sing-songed, her eyes glinting in a rather unsettling manner as she looked at me. "I gotta stick with her, but it was nice to meet you, _Saul._ " And I did _not_ like the way she said my name.

"…Okay," I said after a moment. "Thanks for bringing your sister around. See you soon, hopefully."

"Oh," just the way she said that and how she looked, her eyes dark and a smirk on her lips made me feel something shameful. "I think we'll be seeing each other a _lot_ more often." The atmosphere took a complete one-eighty as she beamed at Taylor and left with a jaunty wave. "Ok bye!"

…Girls. Might as well be aliens, sometimes. Shaking my head, I turned back to Taylor to find her smiling incredulously at the paper clutched in her hand. "Hey," I patted her on the shoulder. "How are you feeling, Taylor? You should probably get some food in you."

"Right," she muttered, very carefully placing the autographs on the tray before taking the gatorade and drinking deeply. "Thank you…for everything." I didn't take a genius to realize she was talking about more than the treatment.

"Don't worry about it. Anyone would've done it."

"No they wouldn't," Taylor bit out with a scowl, the bottle creaking in her grip. "I heard the bells ring, I _heard_ them walking by the lo…that thing. They laughed at me and went on with their goddamn day." Setting the bottle aside, her hand found mine and squeezed, her dark brown eyes wet. "You…you were the only one who helped…I thought I was going to die in there…"

…I really fucking hate people sometimes. "I'm sorry, Taylor," I murmured, cradling her hand in both of mine. "This is my fault."

She frowned up at me. It would've been cute if not for the half a ton of self-loathing on my shoulders. "How?" she asked incredulously.

"I should've been there! I would've seen it, I would've stopped it!" Taylor flinched back from the sudden noise and I tried to compose myself. "But no. I decided to _fuck_ around instead of doing what I was supposed to…and now you're here. Because of me."

"Hey," She reassured, clasping my hands in hers, "That's not fair. I mean, yeah, I would've preferred you being there, but you didn't know it was going to happen. You-you didn't push me in there, slam the door…an-and leave me to _die…"_ The trembling returned, her breath coming in short pants as her eyes stared through me. The look on her face…I knew she was thinking of the locker, the horrors clawing at her mind.

I'd seen it in the mirror often enough.

I slipped a hand out of her hold and touched her cheek. "Taylor," She flinched violently, squeezing her eyes shut and taking several deep breaths.

"I'm okay," she whispered, shaking her head. "What I'm saying is, it's not your fault. You're not to blame."

"You say that," I sighed, dropping my head against our joined hands. Self-loathing was replaced by righteous fury. "When I find whoever is responsible…I'm going to break more than _just a nose…"_

I heard her gulp, felt the motion of it carry through her arms. Looking up, I found her licking her lips. "I…I know who it is," she whispered. "I know who shoved me in there."

I felt a lot of things in that moment. Anger. Anticipation. Cold Rage. Worry. But all I said was, "Who?"

"You…know that girl? The one who started singing?" Pressure started building inside me, in my lungs, my heart and my brain. "Her name's Sophia. Sophia Hess. She's the one."

…

As she spoke, Taylor thought she'd made a terrible mistake. Saul stared at her, motionless except for the flickering off his eyes, and it felt like all the heat in the room had been sucked out. "…I see," he said with a terrifying calm. "And you're sure?" There was no accusation in his voice, there's wasn't _anything_. It sounded as barren and lifeless as an arctic shelf.

"Y-yes," she said slowly, licking her suddenly dry lips again. "W-when I opened it, the smell hit me and I kinda…hurled. Someone grabbed the back of my head and…and stopped. I managed to look around before… _before_ and I saw her. I know it was her. Sophia Hess did it."

Saul nodded slowly, the muscles in his neck cording alarmingly. "…Anything else?" He might've been sarcastic, but she couldn't tell. Before she knew it, she found herself with the entire story spilling from her lips.

Taylor told him everything. From the time they'd met last year, with her former best friend Emma becoming an enemy, the taunting, the bullying, the slow but certain ostracization from the school as a whole, the ravaging of her mother's prized flute, even the online harassment. And she told him about the meticulous notes she'd taken, recording almost every instance of Sophia's cruelty.

By the time she'd finished, her throat was dry and parched and as Saul leaned back in his chair, she grabbed the bottle of gatorade and gulped it down. Still thirsty, she made to grab the apple, only to find the boy sitting next to her had pulled another bottle from his bag and had opened it for her.

"…Taylor," he finally said, looking at her with same fearsome flicker in his eyes. "Would you be willing to let me use those notes? I want to make sure she's punished for what she's done."

"You can," she answered immediately, though questions lingered in her mind. How could he make sure she was punished? How did he know Glory Girl and Panacea? And why did she keep seeing flashes? "Um, Saul?"

"I need to make a phone call," he said simply, pulling a sleek black and purple phone out his pocket. "I'll be back, Taylor."

Walking towards the door, he suddenly stopped a step away. A second later, the door flew open and her father, Danny Hebert, came barreling in. _If he'd been closer, he'd gotten whacked by the door,_ Taylor thought, in the scant second before her dad had her wrapped up in his arms. For the first time in more than a year, she was able to relax, slumping into her dad's embrace.

Saul watched with a half-smile tugging at his lips before he turned away, bringing his phone to his ear. "Cortana, connect me to Armsmaster and Director Piggot."

Taylor couldn't string more than two thoughts together as her father fussed over her, barely managing to get a word in edgewise to explain that yes, there'd been trouble at school but no, she wasn't injured anymore because she'd been seen by Panacea, here's her autograph no you can't touch it, it's mine. The white-knuckled grip he had on hearing about exactly _how_ she'd been injured contrasted with the furious red of his face as he muttered threats. Then she'd told him he didn't need to worry, because Saul said he would handle it and she couldn't help but trust him.

"Who's Saul?" he asked confusedly.

She gestured at the door with a half-eaten apple. "He's the boy who left when you were coming in," she answered, pausing as she went to take another bite. "He pulled me out of the…the thing. And he punched a girl who made fun of me, carried me to the nurses' office, stayed with me even when I was covered in sh-crap."

Danny Hebert sat down on a chair with a sigh. "Sounds like I need to shake his hand," he muttered, running a hand through his thinning hair. "Normally when a guy's responsible for a girl ending up in the hospital you'd grab a shotgun, but here…"

Taylor sat up in the hospital bed, glaring at her father. "Dad," she said levelly, "Please don't threaten my friend."

"I won't, I promise," Danny assured, before frowning slightly. "Speaking of friends, where's Emma? She should be here, right?"

She went rigid, eyes darting around the room for a way out, slumping on her pillows when she saw nothing. "Dad…Emma and I…we haven't been friends for a while," she started nervously.

"What?" he asked in disbelief. "But…you two used to bawl when we had to go home, you shared baths, beds…I honestly thought you'd share your first boyfriend, too. How did this happen? You girls were inseparable…"

"People change, dad," Taylor shrugged blithely, playing with the thin blanket covering her lower body. "And not for the better. It just…happens."

"Yeah, but I didn't think it would happen to you two," he sighed, rubbing his chin. "Maybe I'll call Alan, see if he'll take the case when it goes to court. I know he's a divorce lawyer, but I think he'd do it. He and his wife are fond of you."

But their daughter most definitely did not, and Alan Barnes was the type of dad who was wrapped around his little girl's finger by the time she could talk. "Saul said he was handling it…somehow…" The younger Hebert peered into the distance, wondering just how a guy her age could handle something like that. And it was also strange how casual he was with the two most popular members of New Wave, almost as if he knew them and didn't fear their power.

…Almost like he had powers himself.

"Maybe he knows a lawyer," Danny pointed, stroking his chin. "All I know is that whoever's responsible better pray I don't get my hands on them."

Taylor flinched, blinking away the images at the edge of her vision. Though they were brief, she could see what looked like the hospital, the inside and the outside, different rooms that were unused and even…a picture of herself from up high on the wall. Looking up, she only saw a television that was playing some old show on mute. _I really hope I'm not losing my mind,_ she worried. _How much would that suck?_

She was startled out of her thoughts as the door opened and Saul came back in, followed by an intimidating older woman. She wore a leather jacket and had a burn scar going up one cheek, her blue eyes hard as she gazed at them. "Hey Taylor," he greeted her casually, his face not quite so tight with anger as it had been previously. "Is this your dad?"

"Danny Hebert," her father stood from his chair, offering his hand. "I understand I have you to thank for getting Taylor out of that mess."

Saul shook his hand firmly. "No thanks needed, it was my-"

Taylor rolled her eyes and snatched her pillow from behind her head and hurled it at Saul, and with surprising accuracy it impacted his face and muffled his words. "No it wasn't!" she growled, crossing her arms and inadvertently making herself look more cute than foreboding. "Stop saying that!"

The younger man reached up and pulled the pillow from his face, arching an eyebrow at her as he did. "Fine," he agreed, shoving it under his arm. "As long as agree to let me take care of your hospital bills. And the therapist."

"Are…are you sure you can cover those, young man?" Danny asked carefully, trying not to seem eager to take up his offer, "No offense, but you're just a kid."

Saul clicked his tongue. "Ah, well…I can't explain that just yet."

"Can you explain how you can 'handle' this incident?" The older man pressed, "Because from where I'm looking, you only said that to make my daughter feel better. And while I can understand that, giving her hope without actually doing anything is something I can't abide by."

"Dad…" Taylor groaned, slapping her face. "What did I say?"

Saul, however, was unruffled, even smiling. "I think you would've made an excellent hero, given the right power," he complimented with a nod, "Which leads me to why I can't tell you yet." On cue, the woman behind him pulled a pair of documents out of her jacket and handed them to him. "Thanks, Sarah. These are Non-Disclosure Agreements, NDA's. In this case, I think they're a tad unnecessary, but I'm legally obligated."

"So we sign these, and you'll tell us everything?" Danny asked, quickly scanning through the pages. "'The Vikare Act?'"

"Sign them and I can tell you most of what I know," the younger man offered bluntly. "As some of it pertains to an ongoing investigation, I have to leave some of it out. But rest assured, I'm not doing this out of some nefarious desire, I just want to tell you the truth without getting you in trouble."

Her father still looked to dig in his heels and Taylor sighed, snatching a document out of his hands. "Can I have a pen? And also my pillow back."

"Sure," The leather-jacketed woman, Sarah, slipped the pillow out from underneath Saul's arm and handed it to the younger girl along with a pen; one of the fancy ones that lasts for years.

"Taylor!" Danny protested.

"I trust Saul, dad," she said simply, signing and initialing in the right places. "He won't do anything to hurt me." She handed the form back to Sarah, who signed it as a witness.

"You don't know that for certain," her father sighed and shook his head, but signed as well.

Saul, looking rather touched, took a deep, fortifying breath. "Here's the short version: the reason I can handle, or at least get the ball rolling on all this is because, technically, I'm a junior law enforcement officer. That's because I'm a Ward, the newest. Game Master." In-between blinks, he changed from an above-average height boy to a towering figure clad in olive-green power armor. There was no displacement of air or anything else, and it seemed for all the world like he had always looked like that and they just hadn't noticed.

Taylor and her father jerked back in surprise, the older man nearly stumbling over his chair. "…Okay, I believe you," Danny said faintly, sitting down with a huff, "A Ward, huh."

Saul changed back with no visible effort. "Yeah. Since I got involved and also punched someone in the face, that makes it Ward business and therefore, Protectorate business. So, all your hospital bills will go to them instead of you, as well as the following therapy sessions." He paused in thought. "Well, that and one other reason."

Taylor sat up as suddenly, everything seemed to fall into place. Her complaints, suppressed. Her transfer requests, denied. How Sophia seemed to get away with everything, effortlessly. "Sophia," she gasped, "She's a Ward?"

The younger man started slightly, staring at her with incredulous blue eyes. "How'd you…?" He shook his head sharply, "No, that's not…well, it is _a_ reason, but not the reason I'm talking about. And don't tell anyone that." Sarah held up the NDA's, tapping them with a finger.

"Wait a minute," Danny shot up, his face twisted in anger. "Is that what this is?! You got us to sign an agreement, pay the bills and what, we'll just forget that a _goddamn Ward_ assaulted my daughter?! Are you trying to bribe us, you sonofabitch?!"

Saul turned a flat look on the older man, who shivered but remained firm. "First of all, my parents are dead," he said coolly, "So if you want to be accurate, 'asshole' is a better curse. Second, _no_ , that's not why that happened but rest assured, she'll be punished. I'm covering your bills because it's _the right thing to do_. So please. Calm down. And let me finish explaining myself, because it'll have an effect on the rest of your lives."

Taylor rubbed her eyes, trying to rid herself of an image of the back of Saul's head that had popped up. "What happened?" She asked nervously. _Oh no. They think I've gone crazy and they're gonna lock me up…should I be?_

He sighed deeply, grabbing a chair from the corner of the room and pulling it over to her bed. "Taylor," he started, offering his hand, which she immediately took, "I hate to bring this up, but…when you were in the locker-"

Taylor couldn't help the shiver that wracked her body, the memory of that horrid stench invading her nose as the sensation of metal and filth pressed in all around and _oh god I'm dying I'm dying please someone help me-!_

"Hey," Saul's soft voice cut through the memory, replacing it with his sad blue eyes. "You're not there anymore, remember? You're safe."

"Then why are you-" Danny made to cut in, but found a pressure on his shoulder. Looking up, he saw Sarah staring down at him, her hand on his shoulder. Silently, she put a finger to her lips.

"Y-yeah," Taylor took a deep breath, exhaling shakily. "You saved me."

Saul nodded gently. "When you were in the locker…at some point, did you ever feel…a _sensation_ , like something that was missing suddenly came back? And when it slotted into place, you blacked out?"

She blinked at him confusedly, licking her lips as she cast her mind back while trying to remain in the present. She frowned as she realized that yes, that had happened. "Yeah…yeah, that did happen," Taylor murmured, frowning as she looked at Saul, "How…did you know? I didn't know until just now."

He leaned back slightly. "When a person Triggers, it releases a pulse of some kind, usually in a radius of about a city block. When it hits other Triggers, it makes them black out." Taylor felt her heart thunder in her ears. "I had just come into Winslow when I nearly blacked out, and my reflexes are the only reason I didn't eat the floor. And that…that led me to the locker."

Danny inhaled sharply. "Taylor…she Triggered?" He grasped his daughter's arm tightly. "She…has powers?"

Saul nodded. Taylor swallowed audibly, her grip tightening on his hand, but not out of fear. _I have powers,_ she marveled, looking at her free hand wonderingly. _I can be a hero…_ Suspicion reared in her head. "…Is that why you're doing this?" She asked quietly, unsure whether she should feel betrayed or not, "Because I have powers, and you want me in the Wards?"

At her side, Danny swelled up like a bullfrog.

Saul scowled at the both of them. " _No,"_ he growled, making them flinch at the anger in his eyes. "I'm not trying to _fucking_ bribe you, I'm not trying to get you to join the fucking _Wards,_ I just. Want. To _Help You._ " He reached into the nearly forgotten bag of food and grabbed an apple, taking out his frustrations on the poor innocent fruit and scarfing it down in four bites.

"Saul," Sarah said calmly, "Breathe. Be calm."

"Don't tell me to be calm, I am calm!" He pinched his nose in frustration, sighing deeply. "Listen. I know what you're going through, believe me, I do. More than anyone."

"How?" Taylor asked quietly. "How would you know?" There was no scorn in her words, only question.

He licked his lips. "I used to live in Seattle. I went to a school, kind of a shithole called Olympic Valley. There was this guy, Raymond Harper," Danny sucked in a sharp breath of realization. "He was dickhole. Everyone loved him; the teachers, the students, everyone. Except me. Every time I was around the guy, I got this headache like a nail was being worked into my brain, so I avoided him. And then things started happening."

Taylor stiffened.

"Little things at first. Pranks. Homework going missing, getting shoved in the halls, tripped during gym. Then it got worse," Saul growled under his breath. "My things got stolen, games, a phone, textbooks…nothing I brought to school was safe. Then came the physical violence. I got shoved down a flight of stairs once. Dislocated my shoulder. And then…"

He gritted his teeth, looking towards an empty corner of the room. Taylor squeezed his hand comfortingly. "Saul, I get it-"

"Not yet, you don't," he grunted, rubbing his face. "There are recycling plants in Seattle, where they take old or broken electronics and throw them in these big metal containers; skips, they call them. They fill 'em up, close them up, then take a pneumatic press and crush everything inside into little pieces. Then they pour the crushed pieces out, seperate them and melt them down. After nine months of dealing with shit after shit that got worse every day, I got mugged while I was walking by a recycling plant."

"Oh no," Taylor whimpered, feeling a bead of anxious sweat roll down her temple.

"They took my money, my phone and my backpack, and locked me inside one of those skips," Saul looked at her with flat, dead eyes. "I don't know how long I was in there, only that I passed out from exhaustion after screaming for hours. I woke up when they turned that press on."

"Ob-obviously, you escaped," A pale Danny Hebert said to fill the silence.

"I did," Saul nodded, "I Triggered, turned into a video game character and ripped my way out. And then I went and found out who did it to me. Raymond Harper, or as he was better known as, Novacaine, a Ward with the Seattle Protectorate. That bastard made my life hell for most of year, then locked me up and left me to die." He leaned close, his nose nearly touching Taylor's. "I know _exactly_ what you're going through."

She darted forward, throwing her arms around his neck and hugging him tightly. "I'm sorry," she murmured into his ear, "I didn't-"

"Don't be," he said roughly, "You needed to know I'm being sincere. And that means telling the truth, no matter how hard."

Danny shakily ran a hand through his hair, wishing he had a drink on hand. "How could you become a Ward after that? After what one of them did to you?"

Saul gently pushed Taylor away, the girl wiping her eyes on the hem of her blanket. "Because despite what happened, they're still heroes. They're dedicated to helping people, and Raymond was just an asshole who took advantage of his powers to make himself a little kingdom. Probably had his handler under his control, too." He snorted. "It helps that as soon as I had proof, they immediately threw him under the bus, and now he's on trial for Mastering a school full of kids."

"He's gonna spend the rest of his life in the Birdcage," Sarah announced, with no little amount of savage satisfaction.

"Is that what's going to happen to Sophia?" Taylor asked, sniffing quietly.

Saul shrugged. "I don't know," He answered truthfully, "Depends on if she used her powers or not. If she did, that's unauthorized power usage on a civilian. If she didn't, possibly no. She's definitely going to be arrested, though. This was her last chance and she spat in our faces."

"Mm," the girl hummed thoughtfully, "So, if you aren't trying to recruit me for the Wards, how are you going to help me?"

"I know a good therapist, for one," he started, giving her a wry smile. "She specializes in PTSD and Claustrophobia."

"The fear of Santa Claus," Taylor interjected with a giggle.

Saul chuckled. "More like the fear of doing Santa Claus's job," he replied, shaking his head, "But you also have powers, unknown ones. If you're going to use them, either as a Ward or a Rogue, you need to know what they are and how they work, as well as physical training. I can help you with that."

Taylor glanced down at his hand, following it up his arm to the fighter's build visible even beneath his ill-fitting clothes, and felt heat come to her cheeks. "Okay," she said shyly, "I'd like that."

Sarah smiled and Danny felt a sense of encroaching doom.

Saul's face fell as he took a deep breath. "There's something else you should know," he started, getting wary looks from the Heberts. "After Harper was arrested and I joined the Wards, my aunt demanded that we be transferred to another branch; this one."

Taylor snorted inelegantly, her expression of 'you poor sucker' mirroring the one on her father's face. "Pretty sure that was a downgrade, there."

He arched an eyebrow at her. "I met you, didn't I?" And no, he didn't understand how that could be construed romantically. "On the way over, I was looking through the files of the local Wards. When I saw that Sophia was the only one going to Winslow, my alarm bells immediately went off. I actually asked that I go to Winslow instead of Arcadia so I could keep an eye on her, make sure there wasn't a repeat of what happened to me."

Taylor frowned at him. "If that's why you were coming to Winslow…why weren't you there this morning?"

Saul scowled and looked away. "I was suspicious of Sophia and she was antagonistic, but…after a few patrols, I got to know her. And while I had some problems with her, she was…friendly. We bonded a bit and I thought…" He shook his head sharply, "It doesn't matter what I thought then. She had me convinced that all my suspicions were just my paranoia, so when this morning rolled around and I didn't want to go to school…I didn't."

Danny leaned forward in his chair, eyes glinting as he peered over his glasses. "You transferred to Winslow to keep an eye on the bitch who hurt my daughter…and then didn't. And now, Taylor has suffered…because you didn't do your job."

"Dad!" Taylor protested.

"Exactly." Saul agreed bluntly. "It's my fault."

"Saul!"

Danny leaned back in his chair. "I see. I appreciate your honesty." He gave the younger man a searching look. "And you're trying to make up for it."

Saul nodded. "I will do everything in my power to make up for my mistake, no matter the cost. I can't go back and fix it, all I can do is try to make it better."

The older man sighed, tenting his fingers in front of his mouth. "You better."

"Dad!" Taylor growled, pointing a finger at him like it was a loaded gun, "You said you wouldn't threaten him! Saul!" She turned the finger on the boy still holding her hand. "I told you I don't blame you, you're not the one who pushed me in the locker. I mean, yeah, you could've…No! No, it was a mistake, and you learned from it! Right?!"

Saul nodded solemnly. "That's goddamn right."

Taylor huffed, slumping back against her pillows with a tired sigh. "So stop it, for fuck's sake…"

"Taylor!" Danny rebuked sharply.

"Oh shut up, Dad, I've had a hard day."

Sarah and Saul stiffened as a chiming came from their clothes, and they pulled their phones out of their respective pockets. "Ah," the older woman muttered, "We've got to go."

Taylor gripped Saul's hand as he made to stand, her body screaming anxiety. "Y-you'll come back, right?" She asked nervously.

"Of course," he promised quietly. "I'll come by as soon as I can, I promise. Rest easy, Taylor." Saul nodded at her father. "Mr. Hebert."

"Danny," Danny corrected, returning the gesture. "You better keep your promises."

"I will." And with that, the two of them were gone, leaving the Heberts alone in the hospital room.

Danny glanced over at his daughter, her dark brown eyes locked on the closed door even as she flexed her now-empty hand, a sad frown pulling at her lips. "Oh god," he sighed, cradling his head, "First you discovered super powers, now you've discovered boys. And I can't tell which is worse."

"Dad!"

…

My good humor faded as Sarah pulled us into the Rig's Parking Lot, the pleasant memory of Taylor's embarrassed shriek, even though I don't know why she did it, fading as the dark present returned.

We stepped out of the van and into an elevator, leaning against the back wall as it ascended. "Saul," Sarah threw an arm around my shoulders, pulling me into a half-hug that, while being very nice, did nothing to calm my growing anger. "It'll be alright. I've gotta drop these forms off, but…I'm not just your handler, I care about you. So, after this…let's go somewhere and just talk, okay?"

I sighed leaning against her shoulder. "Okay. Thank you, Sarah."

"I'd say it's just my job, but then I'd be lying," she muttered, giving me a wink as the doors opened and she stepped out.

With her gone, my mind went to the upcoming event. I didn't know how I would handle it, just that I was glad 'The Bat-Reality' was still equipped in my Trait slot.

The elevator stopped and I walked out just as Armsmaster and Miss Militia marched down the hall, taking up a flanking position besides the halberd-wielding Tinker. "Did you find it?" I asked surreptitiously.

"I did," Armsmaster replied tightly, the visible portion of his face grim and tight. "And more."

Miss Militia turned to me, her eyes glinting like polished onyx over her scarf. "Are you sure you can handle this?"

I nodded tightly and she returned the gesture, my fingernails digging into my palms as we approached the Ward's lounge. The door slid open at Armsmaster's card and inside, pacing in front of the couch, was Shadow Stalker. She looked up, her eyes instantly landing on me as she moved towards me.

"GM, listen-" She began, but I raised a hand.

"I'm not listening to a damn word you say, Sophia," I said as flatly as I could, but some of my anger leaked into my voice and she took a step back.

"Sophia Hess," Armsmaster announced, his halberd drawn and his grip tight around it. "You are under arrest for multiple counts of harassment, theft, assault and assault with a toxic substance. You will come quietly."

Sophia's eyes went wide as she looked at the two older heroes, as if she had just realized they were there. "No," she whispered, a plea on her face as she turned to me. She found no sympathy there. Her eyes darted to the electro-cuffs Miss Militia drew from her pouch, then back to me. "I'll fix this," Sophia murmured, her face tightening.

Then she darted away, breaking into a cloud of black smoke as she went.

And I lunged in front of her, donning Chief's armor just before she hit me.

My shields flared gold and the bar at the top of my visor took a hit as a loud fizzle echoed through the room and Sophia went flying back, coalescing back together as she bounced off a chair. She rolled to her feet, gritting her teeth in pain and immediately jumped again as the barbs from Miss Militia's taser shot at her.

I switched to Delsin, glowing with neon as I sped in front of her once more. That time, she swerved to avoid the danger, but I hadn't switched for the neon.

I held a hand out, my power connecting with the smoke flowing from her, and pulled it in. Black smoke flowed towards me, turning grey as I absorbed it, revealing the floating, skeletal form that was Shadow Stalker. I admit that I took some satisfaction in the ghostly wail of pain she let out, but I mostly felt sorrow. Sorrow and anger.

Within a second, I'd drained all the smoke that could sustain her and Sophia collapsed to floor, sweating and unconscious. Miss Militia knelt and pulled her arms behind her, cuffing her securely before hauling the unconscious girl up onto her shoulder. The older heroes gave me a nod and left, leaving me with nothing but my thoughts.

 _Goddammit, Sophia. Why the fuck did you do it?_

…

…

…

…

 **A/N: Well goddamn, that was a pretty heavy chapter, eh? Quite a bit here, so let's go through it:**

 **We got to see some of Sophia's thoughts, and boy, she's not all there. I feel somewhat bad for her, since she's really a product of her environment here. Which doesn't excuse her actions a single damn bit, if she wants redemption it's gonna be a long, painful road lined with blood and possibly death.**

 **A 'Red Dead Redemption' if you will. Man, I gotta trademark that, that's a good title.**

 **Also, I guess I wasn't clear about it, but Taylor's Trigger** _ **didn't**_ **disable Saul's powers, it just disabled his** _ **Save/Reload Features. I repeat, not his powers, just that system.**_

 **And yeah, Taylor's Locker serves as Saul's 'Dead Uncle Ben' moment, as well as establishing the beginnings of a relationship with Taylor who, yes, can't hide her triggering from Danny, but I'd say she's better off for it. Less stress from hiding her powers leads to less stress overall. Naturally.**

 **And some people might go, 'why'd Saul tell her everything? That's dumb!' and it's because while Saul may be a dumb-ass teen, he's not stupid. He knows honesty is the way to go if you don't want to create massive problems down the line** _ **that could've been easily avoided if they were HONEST FROM THE VERY BEGINNING! LIKE SENSIBLE PEOPLE!**_

 **And seriously, if easily solved problems leading to drama are the only thing in a story, that writer just needs to get better.**

 **Speaking of writers (masterfully executed seque) my buddy Dairegh has just released his first ever story, which I also helped out with! Give it a look why don't you, it's called 'Step Unto the Void' a Warframe/Mass Effect crossover. Be excited.**

 **Also Also, the next chapter of me and NSG's DC Story, Stranger Than Fiction, has a second chapter out today! Check it out!**

 **Thanks for reading, I hope enjoyed and look forward to the next one. In the next one, we get more Taylor time, figuring out her powers, and the consequences of Sophia's arrest. Look forward to it.**

 **Big thanks, as always, to NorthSouthGorem, Dairegh, Kurogane7, AJR3333 and everybody else, make sure to give them a look and shout out from me!**

 **Stay Awesome!**

 **~Soleneus**

 **P.S.: So…yeah, there's the scene of Saul giving his aunt the picture for Christmas. I mean, it made for a good moment of levity after some serious shit…which is exactly what I planned! Huh? What? N-no, it's because I fuckin' forgot it in the last chapter or something, that would be ridiculous!**

 **(Fall for it, fall for it…)**

 **Also, some guy asked how Saul punched Sophia full force and didn't kill her. He's still got the Bat-Reality on, stupid.**

 **Stay Awesome Some More.**

 **~still Soleneus**


	8. Consequences Good, Bad and Ugly

"Yes, Director?" Saul asked, distraction evident on his features even as he gazed at the solid woman sitting across the desk from him.

"Explain today's events to me, Game Master," Piggot replied bluntly, lacing her fingers together in front of her mouth. "I've seen the reports, but I want to hear it from you."

He sighed sharply, scratching the back of his head. "I…skipped the first half of the school day, during which the victim, Taylor Hebert, was victimized by Sophia Hess and three collaborators. When I arrived for the second half of the day, I was struck by a brief blackout that I determined came from a Triggering Event," Saul licked his lips, feeling a bead of sweat forming on his temple as the memory of _The Locker_ played before his eyes. "I traced the source to a locker on the second floor, where I heard a girl crying. After attempting to open the locker with the code, I pulled it open and retrieved the girl from inside. I later learned she'd been stuck in there since the beginning of the day, along with biohazardous materials. I attempted to take her to nurses' office when we were accosted by Hess and company, who provoked me into a brief physical retaliation. Afterwards, I took Ms. Hebert to the nurses' office, where she contacted both the local hospital, Ms. Hebert's father, and my handler. Hess had been injured and entered the office as well with her collaborators, and I realized she was Shadow Stalker when Jessica Cohen entered the room."

Piggot tapped her pen against her desk as he drank from a bottle, her eyes piercing. "Your conduct today raises several questions, Game Master, the most important being: why did you, who _volunteered_ to go to Winslow because you saw situation that was similar to your own experience, _skip_ the first day?" Her pen settled and she laced her fingers together, leaning on her joined hands.

Saul opened his mouth, flushed slightly, and looked away. "I…my last experience with school wasn't exactly the best it could've been. I don't have good thoughts about going in general, but Winslow is even _more_ of a hole than Olympic Hills, _somehow_." He glanced up, only to find the Director unmoved.

"You wanted to keep an eye on Shadow Stalker; rightfully, as it turned out," Piggot allowed with a nod and a grimace, before narrowing her eyes on the boy across the desk. "But, unless I've _massively_ misjudged you, you aren't the type to let something distasteful get in the way of duty. There's more to this then you're telling me, Saul. And I will accept nothing less than _the absolute truth_."

The teen sighed explosively, leaning his elbows on his knees as he reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "It-it's embarrassing to admit," he muttered into his wrist, knowing that Director couldn't care less for his excuse. "I thought-after spending time with Shadow Stalker, getting know her as a person, I thought that I'd let my _experience_ , my… _paranoia_ , get the best of me. I thought I'd seen something when there was nothing," His shoulders slumped as he dropped his hands, staring at the floor between his knees. "I guess that, by going and seeing how wrong I was, it would…make me feel guilty of suspecting someone I was starting to consider as a friend. I didn't want to feel like a bastard."

Piggot scoffed, but not at him. "Feelings always get in the way," she said, mostly to herself as she looked off to the side, an unhappy memory obviously plaguing her. For a moment, Director and Ward, boy and woman, shared a minute of silent commiseration. But there were more important things at hand. "That's not everything, is it? If it had been, that sense of guilt should've lead you to calling here to attempt to cancel that little operation. Something was distracting you."

Saul straightened, glancing away shyly. "I…discovered something that I had to explore further, expanding my knowledge of the events so that I could…understand it better." He paused. "Also, it-it was really fun."

Piggot dropped her pen, planting a fist on her desk as she leaned over the immaculate surface. "Let me get this straight," she said incredulously, "You skipped your first day of class, thereby leading to the events that resulted in the arrest of a Ward and the traumatizing of a civilian…because you were _masturbating?!"_

His jaw dropped, his face burning bright red as he sputtered. "I-don't-no-wha- _WHAT?!_ NO! No, I wasn't- _no!_ That's not why! Not even close!" He paused in thought.

"Vehement protests, followed by silence," the Director pointed out, frowning deeply. "Classic guilty behavior."

Saul shrugged, scratching his chin. "I mean, I guess they _do_ both involve getting sweaty and shooting sticky white stuff," he muttered before stopping, his eyes going wide. "Why am I saying this to you? This isn't helping!"

" _Game Master…"_ Piggot growled.

"It's not that!" He protested, blushing horribly. "I…I discovered something new about my powers, and I was experimenting! I wasn't _polishing my halberd_ or anything! Just the powers and _only_ that! Nothing else at all!"

Saul turned to the side, clutching his temples as he thought, _How the_ fuck _did the conversation turn this way?!_

"Your powers?" Piggot asked, easily ignoring the previous subject. "What, exactly, did you learn?"

He took a moment to compose himself, shutting his eyes and willing his embarrassment away. "You know the character I came in as around Christmas Break?"

"The one dressed like an American flag with a spider symbol?"

"Yeah, Spider-Man."

"Batman, Spider-Man," Piggot muttered to herself, "Wherever you get those games from, they aren't very original with the names."

He shrugged, unable to argue the point. "Well, I was playing around with them one day, then I shut it off and went to bed. That morning, my alarm clock shocked me awake and…" He shook his head, pushing his chair back before jumping, flipping and sticking to the ceiling. Piggot's eyebrows arched up slowly. "…I'm not using the character either. These are _my_ powers, now." Saul paused awkwardly. "…Along with the other ones."

The Director clicked her tongue and her pen, then spent a few seconds furiously scribbling on a blank piece of paper, which she then rolled up, slipped into a container, and sent through a pneumatic tube or some Tinker-tech equivalent. She sighed, pinched her nose, then glared up at him. "How?" She ground out.

Saul shrugged, letting himself dangle from the ceiling by his feet. "I'm not sure. I really liked playing the game and using the powers, but I liked the game with the neon powers, too, and I haven't suddenly developed those over-night."

Piggot pinched her nose again, resisting the urge to either throw her desk aside, throttle someone, or get a _very_ large glass bourbon. "You have to be…the most _infuriating_ cape I have ever had to work with," she murmured, rubbing her temples almost violently, feeling a migraine building behind her eyes.

"Don't you mean 'Ward?'"

" _No."_ She replied tersely. "If you don't how these powers developed, then there's nothing much that can be done. I'm very tempted to lock you up for observation, but that's illegal without just cause. However, if you do, _suddenly_ , develop powers again, you will tell me as soon as humanly possible. _Not_ running around, playing with them like a new toy. _And,_ after this meeting, you will compile a report on these powers. Speaking of which…"

Saul sighed, uncoiling from the ceiling to land on the floor with a quiet thump. Just because he'd known it to be coming, didn't mean he was looking forward to it. "What's it going to be?"

"Your punishments, as they stand, are for a few reasons," Piggot sighed, tapping her pen against her desk. "While the events that occurred today are regrettable, with the exception of the revelation of Shadow Stalker's activities, they are not something you could've seen coming. And, since your entire reason for going to Winslow was just arrested, I've assumed you'll be wanting to transfer to Arcadia. The process will take a week, during which you will serve four Downtown Daylight Patrols, followed by three nights of Console duty. As well a two thousand word written report detailing why skipping school is unacceptable." Her pen stopped as she glared at him. "Do you understand, Game Master?"

"I do," he nodded solemnly, refusing to meet her eyes.

"I don't think you do," she replied, though not unkindly. "A regular teenager can skip a day of school and maybe get a warning or a detention out of it, and that's fine because, in the grand scheme of things, one day, maybe two, won't change their future. You, however," she leveled the tip of her pen in his direction, "Are _not_ a regular teenager. You are a Ward, a government employee. You are, in a sense, _paid_ to go to school. And thus, you are held to a much higher standard."

Saul met her eyes, nodding once more. "I know."

"Good. Your first Daylight Patrol begins tomorrow, ten o'clock. You're dismissed." She set her pen down brusquely and turned to her computer, her stubby fingers tapping away at the keyboard.

"Ma'am," he stood and exited the office, running a hand through his hair as he walked down the hall. Pushing the button at the elevator, he rubbed at his eyes, sighing explosively. Still covering his eyes, he walked into the elevator as it arrived, leaning against the back wall after pressing the button for the ground floor. "Fuck today," Saul muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Rough day?"

…

"Gah!" I jumped back with an inarticulate cry, finding myself staring wide-eyed at the other, previously unknown to me, occupant of the elevator. He was tall, and so bulky that if I couldn't have changed my features with a switch off a game, I might've been jealous, and it was all covered in a black and blue bodysuit, the blue looking sort of quilted. The only natural part of him I could see was the eyes, which were also blue. "Who the hell are you?!"

"I'm, uh, Browbeat," he replied awkwardly. "I'm new. To the Wards, anyway, I did some previous work by myself. You're Game Master, right?"

"Yeah, sorry," I breathed deep, trying to calm my racing heart and mind. All that I could think was _fuck today, just all of it. I am so goddamned tired._ "I've been…a bit distracted today. I gotta go, but it was nice to somewhat meet you." The elevator doors slid open and I stepped out into the parking garage. "See you around."

He waved as I left. "Later."

Sarah was waiting in her van, the engine idling as I approached it. The ride home was very quiet, neither of us feeling the need to fill the air, which gave me some more time to think. Well, it would've, but I spent that diligently _not_ thinking. I'd never been on a Downtown Daylight Patrol before, but from what I overheard in the cafeteria from the older capes, it's about as fun and exciting as watching paint dry. Most criminals of the sort that I handle are like bats, in that most of them come out at night. There are a few handoffs here, maybe a drug deal there, but the majority of daylight crime is the white-collar kind, which I-being the type to chase problems down, punch them, tie them up then call the police-am under-equipped to handle. Maybe Cortana or Dragon, I suppose, or anyone with hacker capabilities.

The van slowed to a stop in front of my house, Sarah putting the van in park before she turned to me. "I'll be here at nine o'clock sharp, so you better have some coffee going," she said with a smile, before it faded and she sighed. Reaching over, she placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. "Listen, Saul; what happened today, happened. There's no going back to fix it, so don't let it make you lose sleep, okay? Things happen all the time without our knowledge, all we can really do is move on." Her burn scar twitched, her eyes dulling slightly.

"I know," I nodded, clasping her hand briefly. "Thanks, Sarah. See you tomorrow."

I don't think she was entirely convinced, but she could pick up that I no longer wanted to talk about. "Alright. Good night." I stepped out, closed the door, and walked up to the front door. Stepping inside, I could see a plate of cold food on the table, but I saw no Aunt.

"Aunt Cecilly!" I called, "I'm home!"

" _Hey sweetie!"_ She shouted back, her voice echoing oddly. " _I'm in the bath!"_ There was a loud splash to emphasize this. " _Dinner's on the table! It's probably cold!"_

It was. It was also takeout and I was starving, so I scarfed it down in about a minute. Beyond my hunger, though, I also had something I wanted to do, and I didn't want to wait for it. Walking into her room, around her bed and to her bathroom door, I knocked. "Are you decent?"

"I'm naked in a bathtub!" Cecilly laughed, before the ringing of metal on metal rang out. "Alright, now I am…sort of." As I came inside and she saw my face, her happy expression dimmed. "What's wrong, sweetie?"

"Auntie…" I sat down on the toilet seat, lacing my fingers together. "Something…bad happened today."

"Did someone try to pick on the new kid? Did you throw them out a window?" She joked, the water splashing as she set her chin on the rim of the bathtub.

"Ha, no." That probably would've been easier to deal with. "Well, I don't want to say it again, but…the bad thing happened because I wasn't there to stop it, and it happened by someone I thought I was wrong about…who I turned out to be right about."

"Sounds like you made a mistake, sweetie," Cecilly said sympathetically. "Welcome to the adult world, sadly."

"Yeah," I agreed, somewhat bitterly.

"Well, you aren't going to make that mistake again, are you?" She asked knowingly. At my firm nod, she shrugged. "So what's the big fuckin' deal? Don't get all angsty on me."

I gave her a dry look, reaching out to poke her nose. "Language," I chided her half-heartedly.

She splashed me in return. "Oh, I know what'll cheer you up! Hop in the bath with me!"

I arched an eyebrow at her. "I think I'm a little old for that kind of thing, Cecilly." I paused. "Also, I can't see how that would make me feel better."

She disappeared behind the curtain and I heard the drain unplug and the water whorl for a while, before it stopped and the tap began pour. After an awkward minute of sitting there, my aunt threw the shower curtain aside, ignoring my squawk of embarrassment. "Bubbles!" She cried joyfully, scooping a handful of the white foam to place on her head. I couldn't help but snort at how silly she looked, and she gave a look of vindication. "See? Not even in the bath and already you're feeling better."

"Auntie…" I groaned, leaning into my palm.

"Come on, Saul," she glared at me from the tub. "There's bubbles, and this tub is big enough for three people. You'll be safe from my _cooties_ and _scary lady parts._ "

I sighed. "You aren't going to leave this alone, are you?"

"No," Cecilly replied primly, crossing her arms. It would've been somewhat intimidating if she hadn't been naked, in a bubble bath wearing a bubble crown.

"What if I just…" I stood and moved for the door, "Leave?"

She planted her hands on the rim, pushing herself up as her eyes narrowed. "Then I'll chase you down and you'll have _no_ protection from my cooties and scary lady parts."

Honestly, I could've hopped on the ceiling and scuttled out a window; no matter her threats, there was no way she'd chase me around outside. But also honestly, I wanted comfort. "Alright, fine," I sighed, pulling my shirt off. "You crazy woman. Don't watch!"

She dutifully covered her eyes and I joined her in the bath, where I discovered that she had lied. It could fit three people _her size_ , and maybe one and half of people my size. So it wasn't quite as roomy as she'd said.

But it was relaxing…somewhat. We had a bubble-building contest, and when she noticed her house was losing to my castle, she dove through both of them.

Inelegant splashing followed.

…

" _Help, please…anyone, please…" I whispered through dry, burning lips. The overwhelming terror had faded into a sort background noise, like a little voice in my head that had curled up in the fetal position, shrieking horribly. "Please, I'm trapped in here…I-I think I'm dying…please…"_

 _No one came. Too busy in class to give a shit about me. Big fucking surprise._

 _I was oddly thankful for the acrid bile on my tongue, despite the burn. At least I wasn't tasting the vile waste piled up to my stomach._

" _What's that smell?" An unfamiliar voice asked, and I felt a pitiful ember of hope smolder in my breast._

" _Help me! Help, please! HELP ME!" Drawing on the last of my strength, I screamed as loud as I could. The footsteps came closer, and that ember became a candle._

 _Blue eyes, curious and disgusted, peered through the slits in the locker door. "Huh," my heart skipped a beat. "Must've been my imagination." Then those eyes turned away, and the footsteps headed off._

 _My candle of hope just been thrown into the Bay, and the terror came literally screaming back. "No!" My fists weakly bounced off the unforgiving metal, doing exactly nothing. "Please! Come back! Help me! PLEASE!"_

 _Then, the ground beneath my feet gave away and I began to sink into the muck, the vile morass creeping up my body. "No! No-no-no-NO_ NO! _HELP ME PLEASE!" I tilted my head up as it reached my neck. "PLEASE!" It rose up and closed over my head, a million little legs skittering over my skin-_

I shot up in bed, my heart pounding as sweat poured down my face. "Taylor," I gasped, breathing hard even as I threw my blanket aside and pulled my pants on. Leaving my phone aside, I slid my window open, pushed the screen out before vaulting through the frame and closing it behind me. The grass was cool on my feet and the air was uncomfortably crisp against my sweat-soaked skin, but none of it mattered as my vision began to blur with neon. Racing through the street, passing around cars, I ran towards the General Hospital, cutting the super-speed as entered the bushes.

Poking my head out, I glanced around and spotted no one looking in my direction, so I dashed across the parking lot to the base of the building. Taylor was in room 216, the 15, 16, 17 and 18 rooms being on the south side of the building. The ground floor was the ER, so technically she was on the third. Looking up from the bottom, the third floor seemed to be very high up.

 _Very high._

But I'd been jumping around much higher roof tops for weeks-in costume-so I reached out and touched the pads of my fingers to the rough stone wall. I lifted my foot and pressed my toes against it, levering myself up to reach with my other hand, and then I was scaling the wall with ease. It took no effort to climb, my muscles working smoothly like I'd been doing it all my life. I could pass any rock wall climbing test in my fucking sleep now.

I paused as I reached the third floor, peering into the closest window. The room was dark, only occasionally lit up by the rhythmically spiking lines of a heart monitor. Taylor was traumatized, not injured, especially not after being seen by Panacea, so she didn't need monitoring. I peeked into the next room, and saw a thin form writhing about on the bed, the thin blanket wrapped tightly around her.

I nearly had to pop the window out of the frame to unlatch it, but I managed and snuck in, closing it behind me. As I snuck up to a sleeping girl's bed, I had to pause for a second and wonder why, exactly, I was breaking into a hospital room with a girl in it like some creep. Then Taylor whimpered in her sleep and I stopped caring. "Taylor," I whispered, brushing sweaty bangs away from her forehead. "It's alright. It's just a nightmare. You're safe."

She shot up almost faster than I could follow, her hand darting out to grab a handful of my shirt. Fortunately (unfortunately?) I had no chest hair for her to rip out, but her nails did reach through the fabric to carve shallow rents in my flesh. She stared at me, eyes wide and trembling. "…S-Saul?" She asked shakily, her knuckles cracking as she clenched my shirt in her fist. "You-I'm…I'm not in the Locker?"

"No, Taylor, you're not," I said softly, resting a hand on her wrist while other continued to stroke her hair. "I pulled you out, remember? I didn't leave you then, and I won't leave you now."

"Right…right," Taylor murmured, her grip slowly relaxing until she held her hands in front of her, staring at them as if she'd never seen them before. Silent tears cut down her cheeks and she curled up, burying her face in her knees before beginning to sob quietly.

Reaching out, I slowly rubbed her back, her body quaking under my palm. As I brought my hand back up, she turned and threw her arms around my shoulders, burying her wet face against the side of my neck. Carefully, I hooked an arm under her knees and climbed onto the bed, setting her down in my lap before hugging her firmly.

It took awhile to for Taylor to wind down from the nightmare, her tense frame slowly relaxing until she was only loosely curled up against me. "S-sorry," she said thickly, sniffling loudly as she reached for a box of tissues. Awkwardly, she dabbed at my neck, which wasn't exactly doing much. "Oh wow, I made a mess…"

"And I just took a bath, too," I replied dryly, getting a surprised snort from her. "How are you feeling?"

Taylor finished scrubbing my skin, settling her temple on my shoulder. "Better," she muttered, tracing short circles on her knee. "Well, physically, anyway. Emotionally…" She shrugged. "Still kind of a wreck."

"These things have an effect on us," I agreed solemnly, rubbing her shoulder. "Therapy helps. I would know."

"Yeah…" The girl in my lap sighed, before tensing. "Also…kinda embarrassed."

"What? Why?" And then I realized the intimacy of our position and I, too, felt embarrassed. Which was not at all helped by the way she shifted in my lap.

"I'm, uh…I'm in a hospital gown," Taylor replied quietly. "Um… _just_ a gown."

…

"…Oh." I licked my suddenly dry lips, very aware of how her frame, lanky and bony as it was, was still soft cradled against my chest. "I'm just…going to pretend you didn't say that for right now."

"Yeah," she sucked her teeth sharply, "Kinda wish I hadn't said anything."

We sat in an awkward silence for a few minutes, both of us trying (and failing) to ignore the… _touching_. Which was pretty fucking hard to do, considering we were still holding on to each other.

"Does it ever go away?" Taylor asked suddenly, her brown eyes locking on my blue. "The nightmares, the terror, the…helplessness…"

"No," I said bluntly, softly, "They're like scars. They'll always be there. The sudden anxiety, the subtle foreboding as a room full of people begins to shrink in on you, the urges to scream and curl up in a corner, the fear of closed spaces, the fear of wide-open spaces…they'll fade, in time. But they never leave you, not for good."

"…Oh," She slumped against me listlessly, fingers flicking at my collar. "I was kinda hoping you'd say something inspirational, or uplifting…you kinda suck."

I shook her gently, arching an eyebrow at her. "You'd rather I'd lie?"

Taylor huffed, biting her lip thought. "…No," she said grudgingly.

"I won't ever lie to you, Taylor," I promised quietly, reaching up to brush a stray strand of hair away from her eyes. "I owe you a lot. And-someone's coming." I quickly set her aside, pulled the blanket up around her shoulders before leaping up to the ceiling, pressing myself flat against it.

The door cracked open, a thin blade of light cutting through the dark as a middle-aged woman peeked inside. "She's asleep," she whispered to someone else. "Poor girl. She needs all the rest she can get." The door closed with a quiet click, restoring the quiet night.

I landed quietly by the bed, breathing easy. The sudden flare in my Spider-Sense had made my heart jump like a startled cat. A tug on my sleeve drew my attention, and I found Taylor staring at me. "You were sticking to the freakin' ceiling!" she hissed, poking my shoulder. "That wasn't in your profile!"

"Profile?" I arched an eyebrow at her.

"On PHO," Taylor clarified, laying her hand on my arm, pushing slightly them pulling away, trying to see if she'd stick to me. "How'd you do that?"

"I found a new game," I shrugged, "Called 'Spider-Man.' Crawling on walls is one of his things."

"Does he make webs?" She asked hesitantly. "…And from where?"

"He's not _that_ much of a spider," I said quickly, before shaking. "It's a conversation for later. You need rest, and I have a Daylight patrol in…" I checked the clock and found it to be two in the morning. "Eight hours."

Taylor nearly jumped forward, her fingers digging into my shoulders. "Y-you aren't staying?" She asked, the naked panic in her voice sending a trill of guilt to my stomach.

"I can't," I shrugged helplessly, "The nurses will come in to check on you and if I fall asleep, then I'll get caught and have to explain why I snuck into a girl's room. My boss won't appreciate it and I doubt your dad would, either. Much as I'd like too, I'm sorry."

"Yeah," she sighed, deflating sadly. "Sorry, I just-I'm really comfortable around you, you know? I mean, shit, we met _today_ and I think I'd go nuts if I never got to hug you again. I am literally almost naked except for this gown, and I don't feel nervous at all!" Taylor paused, her cheeks darkening. "Though, pointing out the naked part does kinda make me embarrassed…why am I saying this out loud?"

"I feel the same," I cut across her embarrassed mumbling, reaching out to take her hand. "See? Doing this, just holding hands…it's not something I ever thought I'd do with someone I just met. I don't know why, but touching you, holding you, being affectionate, it just feels…"

"…Right?" She finished, intertwining our fingers. "I know…I feel like I know you, somehow. Isn't that odd?"

"Yeah," I muttered, staring at our joined hands before a suspicious thought crossed myself mind. "Are you trying to distract me so I won't leave?"

Taylor looked down bashfully. "…Maybe." She peeked at me from beneath her bangs. "Can you stay a bit longer? Just until I fall asleep?"

Nodding, I pulled a chair under my legs and at her bedside. Instead of lying down and pulling the blanket, she went red and fiddled with my fingers. "What?"

She licked her lips and patted the thin mattress beside her. I slipped in next to her, crossing my legs as she pushed herself up on her knees, gathering her gown behind her before climbing in my lap. Resting her head on my shoulder, she curled up against my chest and closed her eyes.

I rested my cheek atop her hair, and even though I did my best to resist, I felt my eyes inexorably begin to close. To combat the sleepiness, I started playing a song in my head, Diary of Jane by Breaking Benjamin. I couldn't remember the second half of it, so I kept repeating what I knew. After a few minutes of that, Taylor lightly thumped her head against my shoulder, murmuring, "Cut it out with the music."

Obligingly, I stopped and within minutes, she was asleep. Carefully laying her in the bed, I tucked her in, stroked her hair one last time, then escaped out of the window.

It was only when I got home and in my own bed I realized something. How did I have Taylor's nightmare? And how did _she_ hear the music in _my_ head?

And did she tell me to knock it off because it was Breaking Benjamin? Did she not like them? Because that would be a problem.

…

 **The Next Day**

"These are the Webshooters Mk.1," I said, showing off the wrist mounted devices to an interested Miss Militia. They were matte black, simple in form but complicated in function; though, they were only capable of web-swinging, binding, web-spinning, along with bullets and impact webs. "The Mk.2 are being fabricated as we speak, but these will work for Daylight Patrol."

"They are pretty boring," she nodded, tapping the one on my right wrist experimentally. "And you're sure these will hold enough for the entire Patrol?"

"The amount of fluid compressed into one canister is substantial," Armsmaster answered, holding up a container about the size of .45 bullet, "And each 'webshooter' holds eight canisters. There's enough fluid that he could spray continuously for three hours and not put a significant drain on the reserves. The next batch, with the tweaked formula, should hold even more."

My head shot up and I turned a vicious glare on the older hero behind my visor. "You _messed_ with _my formula?!"_ I growled indignantly. Spider-Man had used almost the exact same formula for nearly eight years! With small revisions, yeah, but nothing huge!

To my amazement, Armsmaster visibly winced. "I simply noticed a few areas that needed improvement when it comes to restraining super-powered individuals."

It was the closest thing to an apology I'd ever heard from the man, but I still grumbled. Motherfucker thought he knew better than Peter Parker? Bitch please. I'd look it over later. "Allow me to demonstrate uses," I said, scrambling up onto a block. Off the left, a higher block had been raised, with another block the same height as mine, thus simulating a gap between buildings. "Observe."

Curling my middle and ring finger in, I jumped from the block, throwing my hand out as I went. The tips of my fingers pressed against the base of my palm…and nothing happened. I hit the floor with a thump, staring at my wrist confusedly. "The hell?"

"…Are you sure they don't need more testing?" Miss Militia asked cautiously.

"No!" I called back, fruitlessly tapping my fingers against my palm. "They worked just fine when I tested them in the lab!" Shaking my wrist out, I stared at it in betrayal. Why the hell wasn't it working? No one had fiddled with it since the lab, that had been ten minutes ago and I'd been wearing them since then! I only took them off to…put my gloves on. Ah hell. My gloves were thicker than my wrists, I mean obviously. And the Webshooters used a sensor field to read movements, and the sensors were being blocked…by my gloves.

Activating my HUD, I connected to the Web Shooters and adjusted the field, pointing at the ground and tapping my palm. _Thwip!_ A small string of web shot out, hitting the ground, and I nodded in satisfaction before adjusting the other.

Climbing back on top of the block, and I jumped and threw my arm out, web shooting from my wrist to impact the wall, sticking securely as I swung over the imagined gap and landed neatly on the other block. "See?"

"I do," the flag-wearing heroine nodded, waving at the dummy that had been set up previously. "I'm curious to see what the other functions are, though."

"There's quite a bit that they can used for, the Mk.2 even moreso," I replied, jumping down. "For instance: Dummy, aim!" The dummy brought the fake pistol at it's waist up, pointing at me. I shot a line at it and yanked it from it's hand. Then I fired another at it's foot and tripped it. When it stood back up, I took aim and released a shot of Impact Webbing. The white ball sailed through the, slamming into the dummy's chest and flinging it violently back against the wall where it exploded outwards, trapping it in a thick web. "Next model will have taser webs, a concussive blast, possibly a few more if I can think of them."

"Excellent," Miss Militia nodded approvingly, her eyes shining like polished onyx. "And will there be copies made and distributed? Possibly to me?"

I looked at Armsmaster and he shrugged. "Possibly," he said, "They can be very useful tools in the field, could replace both the tranquilizer darts and zip ties in the usual kit…but there _is_ a learning curve, and the possibility of irresponsible use is high." No one said it, but we were all thinking of Clockblocker. "And there's the question of expense, as well."

Which was a little white lie. Peter cobbled his together with shit he got from dumpster diving; with all the Tinkers, scrap yards and recycling plants in Brockton Bay, I could build twenty pairs after a couple hard nights. Twice that with Armsmaster's help, and twice _that_ with his fabricators as well. But also, we needed money for creating other devices that used web-based ammunition.

It was a little surprising how underhanded Halbeard could be, but hey; we'd be making money, building a reputation and making things safer, so it was a win all around, far as I was concerned.

"Well, I hope you keep me in mind when the first ones are handed out," she said, and though neither her words or body language were threatening, I felt a _little_ threatened.

"Of course! You're my favorite heroine, you're earmarked to get the second pair," I assured her quickly.

"Only second?" Militia arched an eyebrow. I pointed at Armsmaster beside her, and she went, "Ah."

"Let's get started on patrol," said Tinker muttered gruffly, throwing a leg over his kick-ass motorcycle. "Downtown Business Center has very little crime especially at this time of day, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't be cautious, Game Master."

"Understood," I nodded sharply. "Good luck. We're all counting on you."

He gave me a dirty look behind his visor and thundered off on his bike, while Miss Militia chuckled under her breath. She tipped her hat at me before climbing in her PRT-issued car and driving off in another direction, leaving me all by my lonesome.

"Cortana, have you and Dragon come up with anything?" I asked as I sidled up to a bus stop and sat on the bench.

" _After taking a look at the schematics, we've been discussing possibilities,"_ she whispered in my ear, which never failed to send shivers down my spine. " _With Armsmaster's miniaturization speciality, the Web Shooters web capacity could be theoretically infinite, as well as allowing you to carry more trip mines and grenades. Dragon wants to take scans of the other Spider suits, though, and see what we can come up with then. Obviously, the first step is integrating the Web Shooters into your gauntlets."_

"Might as well use these buttons for something," I said to myself as the bus pulled up. Flashing my pass as I stepped inside, I flopped down for in an empty spot and pulled out my phone. "So, when are you going to tell me where you're getting money from?"

" _When I have enough for my purposes,"_ she teased, a wink emoji popping up on my screen.

"And those purposes are…" I asked slowly.

" _I'll tell you when I've accomplished them,"_ Cortana replied, " _They're nothing bad, in a manner of speaking. Why do you want to know so badly?"_

"Uh, because you're my friend and I want to know where the money in my bank keeps coming from," I retorted, "And I know how mischievous you can be."

" _You got a problem with having a_ sugar mama _?"_ She said with a chuckle, and I felt a thrill of something hot rolling in my stomach.

"Please never say that again," I muttered, rubbing the bridge of my nose under my mask.

" _Ooh, I just detected a sudden spike in your heart rate and pheromone production!"_ Cortana crowed triumphantly. " _Do you_ _**like**_ _it when I say…"_ Her voice went low, gaining a smoky quality that only exacerbated my current problem. " _ **Sugar mama?"**_

"Cortana…" I groaned, slumping back in my seat. "Stooooop…"

"Uh, excuse me?" A young man, slightly on the hefty side with a few pimples dotting his cheeks, asked nervously. "You're, uh, Game Master, right?"

"Sure am," I nodded, thankful for the distraction. "What's up?"

"Your powers come from video games, right?"

"Yes," I said slowly, resisting the urge to point at the Konami Code on my chest.

"So…do you play them a lot?" He questioned nervously, playing with his pocket.

"Everyday, if I can," was my reply, "Where you are going with this?"

"Well, I'm trying to beat Ninja Gaiden Black, but-"

Ten minutes later, I stepped off the bus in the heart of Brockton Bay. "-And that's why you need to upgrade the Wooden Sword," I finished explaining, patting the young man on the shoulder. "Anyway, I gotta get to work. Later."

"Thanks!" He waved, taking off down the sidewalk with a skip in his step.

Waving back, I sighed and rolled my neck, looking up at the plain-seeming office building that was the PRT Building, where I'd be operating out of after the training wheels had been fully kicked off. It wasn't as big as the Rig, obviously, and the training rooms weren't quite as advanced, but it was simply more efficient to come and go from instead of riding the ferry all the time. And all the stuff I was working on is easily moved, so I had no problems with it.

Nodding to myself, I turned and began to climb the building, ignoring the gasps of the people who'd stopped to see what a Ward was doing on the sidewalk. " _Saul…what are you doing?"_ Cortana asked suspiciously.

"Climbing to the top so I can swing," I replied simply, my muscles working as I scaled the skyscraper at a decent pace. I wasn't running simply because it was my first time, and such a thing deserved a little gravitas. Looking through the window I was currently stuck to, I saw a man staring at me from his desk, a phone hanging loosely in his hand.

" _But you've never done the swinging thing before, have you?"_

"Nope."

"… _You don't want to start from a shorter building?"_ She questioned as the wind began to whistle and the hubbub of traffic began to fade.

"Nope."

" _Saul, this building is forty stories high!"_ Worry began to leak into her voice. " _You don't think that's a_ bit _much?"_

"Should get plenty of momentum," I said shortly. "Cortana, this is what I'm doing. I trust my reflexes, I trust my equipment; I'll be fine. Sometimes…you just gotta take a leap of faith."

She sighed in my ear. " _If you say so."_

The wind howled as I reached the top, ventilation systems and radiators dotting the gravel-coated roof, the air nearly batting at me like a cat with a mouse toy. Sticking to the edge and peering down, the shining glass and metal seemed to curve down and away from me, like the building was a second away from collapsing in half; the cars were little more than dots, and the people were like smudges.

Holding my arms out, I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. Even through the wind, I could feel something, something gigantic, something so incomprehensibly large that it boggled my mind. Hundreds, thousands, hundreds of thousands of people, walking, talking, sitting, chatting, working. Their hearts beating fast, slow, and in-between, even _thump_ sending miniature vibrations through their chairs, the floor, the sidewalk. The pumping of engines, organic and mechanical, each reverberated off of the other, echoing up through the buildings and into the very atmosphere, echoing in the shadow of my own.

The heartbeat of the city. All those lives, all that life, bouncing off each other unknowingly until it became the beat of one, giant heart.

I let go, and the wind swept me off the side. My eyes remained closed, the air rushing around me, the floors of the building speeding past with a brief reverb of noise, the sounds of the city rising to greet me.

My eyes flew open and I tucked my arms to my sides, falling faster than before, the ground rushing up to meet me even as my heart began to thunder in my ears. Then, I threw my hand out and shot a line. I felt it connect, the subtle vibration of the web singing in my bones and I closed my hands over it, gripping it tightly as I kicked my feet out.

In that moment, as I swung, I felt it all; the inertia tugging at my legs, the tautness of the web traveling down my arm as my muscles clenched and my tendons creaked under the stress. I felt power, pure, gravitational power. And as I reached my peak and detached the line, I sailed up and up, all that power, all that _weight_ , vanished. And I felt freedom.

I thought flying had been freedom, but it felt so much more _real_ when I swung. I guess they're on to something when they talk about peaks and troughs.

As I began to fall and shot out a web to swing again, I couldn't help it. " _ **WOOOHOOO!"**_

…

"Hey!" A woman yelled, spinning around as someone shoved into her, yanking the purse from her arm. "Thief! Give that back!"

Shoving through the crowded sidewalk, the thief turned a corner into an empty alley and poured on the speed, nearly home-free when something slammed into ground in front of him. He tumbled onto his back with an inelegant squawk, looking up and freezing.

Standing before him was a man, clad in flexible light grey armor, a mask visor covering his face but leaving the top of his head bare. He'd landed in the classic superhero pose, one knee bent while the other touched the ground, a fist punching into the concrete.

"You've made a bad decision," the hero said, a light electronic growl in his voice. He stood to his full, not-inconsiderable height, shaking concrete dust from his fist. "Now the question is: are you going to continue making bad decisions, or are you going to make a smart one?"

The thief grudgingly gave up his ill-gotten gains and Game Master hauled him up by the scruff of his neck, dragging him back to street. "Hug the light," he ordered, pushing the thief against a street light. As the man did so, the hero zip tied his wrists together. "Game Master dropping a pickup beacon for a purse snatcher."

"You got him!" The woman called, jogging up to them and pausing to take a deep breath and brush her smart skirt and jacket down. "Thank you!"

Game Master handed the purse back with a nod. "No problem, ma'am, just doing my job." She gave him a bright smile before scowling at the thief and whacking him over the head with her purse. Saul stepped in as she drew back for another. "You just get the one."

She pouted briefly, then gave him another smile. "Thanks again!"

He waved, then turned to the thief. "Cops'll be here in a few; don't go anywhere." Saul chuckled to himself as he fired a pair of web lines at a street light, yanking himself up before launching off with almost visible force.

Swinging from the buildings, he rose gracefully, detaching from his lines almost elegant flips and spins. Attaching a line to the corner of a brick apartment building, he kicked his legs to side and swung around, dropping onto the trailer of a freight truck with barely a sound. He knelt there for a few minutes, letting the driver unknowingly ferry him down the street, his head on a swivel as he traveled. Spying a pair of figures tussling in an alley, and after making sure they weren't making out, he jumped from the truck, tucking and rolling right up to the two.

Two men stared at him, one holding a switchblade up to the other's neck. Then the mugger turned and ran. "Stop right there, criminal scum!" Game Master shouted, firing a line at the fleeing criminal. It struck his back and stuck fast, the line going taut as his feet fruitlessly scraped the pavement. Saul tugged on the line and the mugger came flying towards him with a surprised screech. "No one violates the law on _MY_ watch!"

Throwing him against the wall, Saul webbed him up in place. "Thanks, man," the victim sighed in relief, rubbing his neck. "I thought I was about to get my throat sliced!"

"You alright?" The Ward asked, "Do you need an ambulance?"

"No, I'm fine," he replied, "Just nicked."

"If you're sure," Game Master acquiesced, putting a finger to his ear, "Game Master, dropping another beacon, for a mugging this time." Nodding to the man, Saul scaled the building at a run before swinging away.

…

Sitting down on the edge of the building with a sigh, I pulled my mask down and took a massive bite out of my fully-loaded hot dog. I'd been swinging through the city for about four hours, and despite it being fucking amazing and damned fun to do, I could feel my muscles burning pleasantly. I was also ravenous.

Chasing my bite with a gulp of my iced tea, I opened my comm. "Game Master reporting in on my lunch break. So far, I've stopped two muggings, one purse snatcher and one attempted car theft." I crunched down on a couple of fries and took another bite of my dog. "How's it going for you?"

" _Please don't talk with your mouth full,"_ Miss Militia replied politely, the crinkling of a wrapper echoing over the line. " _As for me, I've stopped a few muggings, took down a pickpocket, and interceded in a brawl between two stall vendors. The usual for a Daylight Patrol."_

 _"I, meanwhile,"_ Armsmaster growled, and I could picture his grit teeth perfectly, _"Have spent the last thirty minutes working with the police to figure out a method to cut the web the muggers are bound in without cutting the perpetrators!"_

"I tied them up, like, an hour ago," I said with zero sympathy. "Give it a minute and the web will become brittle, like old frosting. Which you should know, you helped me synthesize the batch, and that was something I explained to you then."

Halbeard just grunted under his breath, and I could hear a distant crumbling sound, followed by shouts as the muggers had probably just broken out and tried to run. And good luck to them, being webbed up for an hour would leave them with some mighty sleepy extremities.

" _I don't expect much else to happen,"_ Militia said after a few minutes of eating. " _Three more hours and we'll be done for the day. Keep an eye out and stay safe, Militia out."_

" _Don't forget to write your reports,"_ Armsmaster added before closing the line.

I crossed my legs and kicked back, polishing off my hot dog and making inroads on my fries, enjoying the breeze. It was a pretty mild day in January, though I didn't expect the brief heatwave to last.

With my fries gone along with my tea, I balled it all up and tossed it in the garbage bin below. Then I cracked my neck, rolled my shoulders and backflipped off the building. As I swung, Cortana spoke up. " _I know it's fast and all and you seem to enjoy it,"_ she began, pausing when I released the line, hitting the side of a building at a run before leaping off into another swing, " _But I gotta say, I_ hate _this method of travel."_

"What's wrong-" I grunted, my arms straining as I heaved myself up over a water tower, grabbing my ankles and spinning for extra style points. "-with it?"

" _You realize that, despite my avatar, my senses come from the sensors in your suit? To me, they're screaming that you're about to plow into a brick wall or hit the ground at terminal velocity."_ She explained patiently, and I could almost hear a wince in her voice when I skimmed the side of cargo truck. " _Just like that."_

"Well, I'm sorry, Cortana, but this is gonna be my main method of getting around," I replied with mid-air shrug, "Until I get my license, at least, and even then. When is my test again?"

" _Next Thursday at twelve-thirty,"_ my AI companion said quickly. " _I know what you mean, but still…"_

"Just recalibrate your sensors so they don't scream at you," I pointed out simply, landing atop a street light to rest for a moment. "Anything interesting on the grid?"

" _Not so far, no,"_ Cortana sighed, before I felt a faint jolt. " _Wait a minute-Cortana to all PRT in the Downtown area, an alarm has just been raised at the Downtown Bay Bank and Loan. A security guard spotted four heavily-armed men leaving the scene in a white sedan. Police are maintaining distance to reduce the chances of collateral damage."_

" _They might fire into the crowd as a distraction,"_ Armsmaster muttered, the roaring of his motorcycle echoing over the line. " _We need to approach stealthily."_

"Sounds like a job for me," I said, already leaping through the air. "Cortana, waypoint the vehicle on my HUD."

" _Absolutely not,"_ came the immediate reply, though my HUD lit up anyway, thank you Cortana. " _This is a delicate situation, a rookie hero_ should not _be involved."_

"Who's the one traveling without a vehicle?" I pointed out dryly, zipping through an intersection and launching myself off of light to get more air. "I can approach them from the air, take them by surprise. They'll damn sure notice if a PRT van or a tricked-out motorcycle in following them."

" _You're cleared to engage, Game Master,"_ Miss Militia said formally. " _We'll keep our distance, but as soon as anything goes wrong, we're jumping in."_

"Understood." Hitting the side of a skyscraper, I sprinted up the side before leaping off, the waypoint growing closer until I could see the car. It was driving calmly, with three police cars subtly following them four cars behind. Shooting a web, I pulled myself up and kicked out, spinning around to land on the top with a thump.

"What the fuck was that?" I could hear a muffled question through the roof.

A window slid down and a masked face appeared from behind the driver. I stared at the robber and he stared at me for a brief second. Then I shot a line at a passing building. "Can you hold this for me?" I attached it to his chest with a burst of webbing and he was yanked from the car with a shriek. "Thanks!" His gun, an assault rifle, flipped through the air and I caught it, attaching it to the roof.

"Shit! Cape!" The window behind the passenger rolled down and another robber popped up, frantically bringing an Uzi to bear on me. I yanked it from his hand and covered his face in web before I gave him the bungee treatment as well, this time to the street light we were passing under.

The passenger window slid down and the third thief pushed out, the wide-barreled weapon in his arms taking 'riding shotgun' to a very literal level. My senses blared and I shot a line straight down the barrel, white web oozing from the inside. "Performance issues?" I asked, ripping it out of his hands and clocking him over the head with the butt. "Don't worry, it happens to-" A web burst stretched between two lamps and I heaved him from the car. "- _everyone!_ "

Taking the weapons I'd collected, I tossed them into the back before crawling over to the driver side. Reaching down, I tried to knock on the glass, only to find the window down. "Knock-kn-ow!" The driver yelped girlishly and smacked my hand with the barrel of his gun. "Quit it!" He kept batting at my hand and I kept trying to slap it away until I finally managed to grab it. Then I pushed my hand up and yanked the slide off of his pistol.

We paused for a second, then I tossed it at him and yanked the now-useless gun-shaped piece of metal out of his hand. Then I smacked him with it a few times before tossing it into the back seat. Reaching in, I felt for the handle, hitting the unlock and pulling it open before dashing for the passenger side, sticking my hands to the roof before curling up and launching myself inside.

My feet hit the driver, sending him flying out of the open door. Time slowed as he through the air and slid across the seat, bringing my Web Shooters up and launching a burst pellet that zipped right under his legs. It popped, spreading a wide web between two lamps which he landed safely on. Slamming a foot down, I kept myself from sliding out, pulling the door shut before taking the wheel. Calmly, I hit the turn signal and pulled over, parking and taking the keys from the ignition before exiting the vehicle.

Who says I need a license? I can drive perfectly fine, thank you very much. City streets ain't got nothing on the Pillar of Autumn run.

Armsmaster pulled up first, his kick-ass motorcycle humming like a beast between his legs and wow that's not an image I want in my brain. He looked back at the criminals hanging from webs, then at me, his mouth tight. I saluted cheekily, and he sighed. "There are at least four different ways you could've handled that, which would've taken less time," he pointed out instead of doing the nice thing.

"Tossing a Neon or Smoke Grenade inside would've made them lose control and possibly drive into oncoming traffic or onto the sidewalk," I retorted, holding up a finger, and not the one I wanted to. "Disabling their car with a plasma shot could've led them to splitting up or taking hostages. Summoning my own vehicle would've led to a car chase and the possibility of the aforementioned traffic and sidewalk issues. Simply landing in front of them either as myself or in my armor could've led to them running me over or, more wishfully, surrendering on the spot."

He grunted in what I assumed was satisfaction, though I couldn't be sure. "We'll take care of the round-up; return to your patrol, Game Master." Smart as he was, the man was just pushy. Do this, do that, be better at this, think more, etc. etc. I preferred to take it as an opportunity to learn, annoying as it was.

"Round-up's already taken care of," Miss Militia announced by way of greeting, rolling up in her van and stepping out. Looking back I could, in fact, see the webbed up criminals no longer hanging from various lamps, instead being pushed into police cars or hauled inside. The America-themed heroine held out a hand, a familiar energy weapon snapping to life in her hand. "Turns out, as strong as your webs are, they're aren't entirely heat-resistant."

…I would just like to point out that Miss Militia, one of my favorite capes, was leaning against an armored black van, casually holding an Energy Sword. It was downright one of the sexiest things I'd ever seen. And parts were starting to get uncomfortable.

"Looks like you've got th _ing_ s covered," I said quickly, barely stopping myself from flinching as my voice cracked. Fuck you, puberty. How is it that I can literally turn into a future cyborg super-soldier and yet I still had to deal with that shit?! "Back on patrol I go!"

It was a relief to launch myself into the air and swing away from that situation, not helped by the giggling AI in my ear. The rushing wind and the rhythm of swinging, releasing, dropping and swinging also helped with the… _thoughts_ I was having.

…

Patrol, after that, was pretty boring. There was a mugging, then a catfight over some necklace at a jeweler's between two older women. Nothing serious. And afterwards, I wrote my after-action report on the way back to the Rig before turning in my armor and equipment for the day, even though I seriously wanted to keep my Web Shooters. But that was alright, I was already building another pair at home.

And then I was on my way to the hospital. Entering the room, I found Taylor sitting up in the bed, a book on her lap. She was looking much better than she had last night, even smiling slightly as she read. But I could see it. The slightest twitches, the tiny shudders and the occasional frown that tugged at her lips. But what did I expect, it was only the next day.

I knocked on the doorframe and she looked up, a smile on her face but an odd bewilderment in her eyes. "What's up?" I asked, pulling the chair over and sitting next to her.

"Not much," she shrugged, blinking oddly. "I mean, besides my dad coming to sign me out in a while. Can't wait to wear some real clothes and sleep in my own bed."

"Yeah, nothing like coming home," I chuckled agreeably, before licking my lips. "H-hey, Taylor? Can I come and visit you, after today? I-I mean, like at your home. We could hang out or do…something, I don't know. I've never really asked anyone this before."

Taylor looked bemused. "I mean…yeah? I didn't think you'd just never talk to me again after this, right? You said you'd help me and I don't think you're a liar." She pointed at the muted TV which showed me, flipping around on top of a white car, webbing dudes up. "Heroes aren't supposed to lie."

"Got me there," I shrugged, leaning back in the chair with hands behind my head. And again, Taylor blinked oddly, slightly shaking her head. "Okay, seriously, what's bothering you? You keep doing this thing like you've got dust in your eyes."

She closed her book setting it in her lap as she looked around nervously. "It kinda seems crazy but…" She leaned closer, speaking low. "After the thing, I've started…seeing things."

Well that was mysterious. "…Like dead people?"

"No, I mean like buildings, rooms, myself, you…" Taylor sighed, running a hand through her tangled black curls. "But from different angles…and sometimes there's a buzzing noise. You don't think I'm crazy, do you?" Her eyes turned to me, a worried frown wrinkling her brow.

"Hell no," I said, reaching out to take her hand. "You Triggered, Taylor. This could be an expression of your power, maybe a telepathic thing, maybe a projection thing...I got an idea. Close your eyes." At her cautious look, I patted her hand. "I don't have a pie I'm gonna smush in your face, Taylor. Just close your eyes, please."

She exhaled softly, nodding as she closed her eyes and crossed her legs. "Now what?"

"Do you see anything?" I asked gently. "Don't try and fight anything you feel, just let yourself drift a bit."

Taylor licked her lips, her face scrunching in concentration. "Okay…I think I see…the cafeteria? Or…no a bathroom…with a dude in it, ew no. And…us."

Glancing around, I saw no ghostly projection type things and we were the only two in the room. "Where do you see us from?"

She lifted a hand and pointed at the TV. "Up in the corner."

Ooh, perhaps she was a technopath? She could build a set of armor that would let her fly around and shoot lasers! Red and gold came to mind. Standing up, I approached the corner and peered at the television behind the grate. No static or screen tearing or ghostly faces. Then, I peeked behind it.

There, sitting just behind the screen on a small web, sat a small brown spider. And an idea struck. "Taylor?" I said, reaching out to the spider. "Is my hand getting bigger?"

"Yeah…it's kinda creepy looking," she muttered, shaking her head. "Is what I'm looking through broken?"

"Are there multiple viewpoints?" I almost whispered.

"Uh-huh."

I held my hand out just on the edge of the web. "Taylor, I want you to crawl onto my hand."

"I'm on the other side of the room!" She protested.

"Just try," I replied, resisting the urge to do anything more than breathe.

Slowly, the spider inched towards my hand, leaving the web to crawl onto my fingertip. "What is this?" Taylor asked in confusion as I slowly turned and carried it back to her. "Why am I growing bigger?"

"Taylor," I breathed, holding the little crawler up in front of her. "Open your eyes slowly, and don't freak out."

An eyelid crept open and then both eyes went wide as she stared at the spider. Then, she made a face of concentration and the spider lifted a leg and made a passable imitation of a wave. Taylor gasped, "I can control bugs?" Then she made a face, part incredulity part disgust. "What kind of power is _that_?"

"Master, if I'm not mistaken," I replied calmly, setting up the spider aside. "Now, you said you saw multiple flashes? At the same time or one after the other?"

She bit her lip in thought. "At the same time." Her face brightened. "Oh, I see what you mean!" She squeezed her eyes shut, furrowing her brow in concentration.

The air changed, as if replaced by a million little strings tugging at every cell.

 _Come here!_

I lurched forward but stopped myself before I could stumble off my chair, blinking at the unease that crawled up my spine. Taylor opened her eyes, frowning at me. "Did I just see through-"

 _Plink._ We turned to the window, but saw nothing. Then a black dot zipped down and bounced off the glass. _Plink._ Then another. Followed by another. _Plink-plink-plink._

"Taylor," I began, only for the girl the shriek. I spun around in surprise in time to see her slap the spider crawling up her arm. She'd gone pale and begun to shake. "Taylor!"

The light from the window had dimmed, hundreds of tiny forms ramming into the glass almost desperately, sounding like hundreds of fingers frantically tapping.

Taylor slammed her eyes shut, her fingers digging into her temples. _Stop!_ The shout came with almost physical force, my muscles cramping up as my heart thumped painfully and headache like a nail was driven into my brain. _Go away!_

I stumbled back against my chair, groaning as my head throbbed. "Taylor, I think your power may be more impressive than you think."

"Jesus!" She muttered, rubbing her temples. "All those images…like thousands of tiny cameras…" Taylor looked up at me. "I think…I saw through your eyes."

"And I heard your voice," I nodded, pulling my chair back up. "So you can control bugs, insects and arachnids…and somehow, we have some kind of mental link. That explains why I saw your nightmare…and why you heard the song I was thinking of."

"But why, though?" Taylor shook her head in confusion. "Because you were close by when I triggered?"

I looked my hands, then at the ceiling. I jumped, sticking to the ceiling. I couldn't be that simple, could it? "I think I know," I sighed, waving at myself. "You see this? These are the abilities of a character called Spider-Man."

Her eyebrows went up. "…And?"

" _Spider_ -Man, bug-controlling girl?" I said leadingly.

She opened her mouth to refute me, then snapped her jaw closed. "That doesn't make any sense," Taylor murmured, scratching her head.

"Something I've learned," I grunted softly as I landed on the floor, "Is that none of this shit makes sense." My guess is that, when she Triggered, that weird wave of nothing hit me right in the brain…but it also bounced off.

There was something I needed to try. Sorry, Taylor.

"Sorry for what?" She asked as I dipped my hand into my pocket and pulled out a quarter. "Oh hey, I heard that _and_ felt it! Maybe it's part psychic and part empathetic?"

Without a word, I spun on my heel, face blank and flicked the coin at her face like a shuriken. Her eyes went wide, tracking the coin as it shot through the air…before her hand snapped up to catch it, moving faster than her appearance suggested.

It was as I thought. "H-how'd I do tha-?" Taylor paused mid-question to turn a betrayed look in my direction. "What the hell, Saul?!"

"I'm sorry, Taylor, but I had to test something and the only way to do it was by surprise," I said remorsefully. "And for the second part, I need you to throw it back as hard as you can."

She cocked her arm back to throw, but paused, an uneasy expression on her face.

"You're not gonna hurt me with a coin, Taylor," I pointed out gently. "I can take bullets just fine."

Nodding, she pulled back and hurled it. And imbedded halfway into the drywall.

About two feet to the right of my head.

"Well," I said calmly, reaching up to pull the quarter out of the wall, blowing white dust off of it. Taylor stared at her slim hands as if they'd suddenly been replaced by robot ones. "That changes things."

…

 **The Next Day...**

Emma flicked her red tresses over her shoulder, sighing gustily as she crossed her arms, the perfect picture of a bored, sulking teenager. Her father, Alan Barnes, seemed far more patient, with only a frown tugging at his lips as he sat.

A few minutes later, the door opened and Miss Militia stroke in, a file in her arms.

As soon as he had a target, Alan let his shark-like instincts loose and began to lawyer. "Is all this necessary?" he inquired quickly, gesturing to bare concrete walls and the one-way mirror. "For some teasing that got out of hand?"

"Yes," she replied simply, calmly opening the file. "Emma Barnes, fifteen years of age. Says here your best friend is one Sophia Hess. Tell me, when did you first meet her?"

"What's the point of this?" Alan asked, an ugly scowl marring his daughter's face.

Militia frowned at him from under her hat, eyes flashing like polished onyx. "The _point,_ Mr. Barnes, is that your daughter and her friends are involved in a criminal situation. And we are trying to find the truth before charges are laid down, _as we should_."

The lawyer sat back, mollified but far from satisfied, motioning for his daughter to speak.

"What's there to say?" Emma retorted brattily. "We met at Winslow. I'm popular, she's popular, there's no story."

"Mm," the America-themed heroine hummed noncommittally, turning a page in the file. "It says here you and your father were attacked by ABB members nearly two years back. You were both assaulted before Shadow Stalker stepped in."

Father and daughter stiffened with rage, but from different sources. "That's a _very_ traumatic event in our lives!" Alan roared, slamming his palms on the metal table as he stood, towering over the woman. "And I'd like to know why, exactly, you're bringing it up!"

Miss Militia, completely unphased, continued. "Were you aware that the civilian identity of Shadow Stalker is Sophia Hess?"

Alan paused mid-denial. "Wait, really?" He asked incredulously, turning to Emma and noting her lack of surprise. "You knew?"

Caught out, the teenager sulked. "She told me when we met at Winslow," she said grudgingly.

He frowned as he went over the last few seconds. "Did you just _lie_ to a hero?"

"The Vikare Act, dad," Emma pointed out quickly.

"That doesn't apply here, Miss Militia is a member of the Protectorate and Shadow Stalker a Ward," Alan replied, putting it down as his little girl being too cautious.

"And what about Taylor Herbert?" Miss Militia suddenly asked, the lawyer giving her a confused look. "What have your interactions with her been like?"

"Hebert," he corrected slowly. "And she and Emma were best friends since childhood, but they've grown apart recently, which, honestly, surprised the hell out of me."

"She got jealous that I was hanging out with someone more popular," Emma interjected, a sneer on her face. "She started telling lies, trying to get us in trouble, generally being a creepy bitch."

"Emma!" Alan frowned heavily at his daughter, blue eyes narrowing, "Don't talk about your friend like that. These things come and go in phases, but best friends last from childhood to adulthood. She'll get over her issues and you can go back to being besties."

"Somehow, I doubt that," Miss Militia said, calmly flipping to another page. "Seeing as she is accusing you, Sophia Hess, Madison Clements and…Julia, for-" She held the page up and it unfolded onto her lap, showing it to be about three feet long. "-Assault, Battery, Theft of Property, Destruction of Property including a one-of-a-kind flute, Online Harassment, Threatening, Endangerment, and Assault with a Toxic Substance, among others."

The lawyer stared at her with an almost comical expression of disbelief. "…Okay, this is just complete bullshit," he stated flatly. "Someone is making shit up just to cause problems, and it's gotten completely goddamn ridiculous! Seriously? Assault with a Toxic Substance?" He scoffed loudly. "My family and I, we've known the Heberts for years, decades even! When poor Annette, rest her soul, tragically died, we spent a month staying with them, we planned the funeral! Taylor and my daughter were _inseparable!_ Even before, they used to bawl when they had to be seperated! They shared everything, baths, beds, hell! Me and Danny had a bet going that they'd share their first boyfriend, too! And _I_ am telling _you,_ that there is no way in _hell_ my little girl would _ever_ do something like this! _Ever!_ "

Militia folded her paper up, closing the file and resting her intertwined fingers atop it. "It will be much easier if you confessed, Ms. Barnes," she said simply, gazing stoically at the red-head. "Your friend, Madison, is being talked to as we speak."

"Ha!" Emma snorted ungracefully, leaning back in her chair with a cocky tilt to her head, "I know what you're trying to do here." She pointed lazily at her father, who was livid at being ignored. "In case you haven't noticed, my daddy's a _lawyer_. I've heard _all about_ the whole "Prisoner's Dilemma' schtick. You're gonna say that Madison is _this_ close to lying to save her own skin, and if I _just confess_ to something I didn't do, you'll go lenient on me." She smirked. "How close am I?"

Alan stood behind his daughter, patting her on the shoulder with a proud look. The heroine across from them blinked, still unphased. "Of course, if you don't confess, the consequences will be much more severe. House Arrest, probation, community service or even time spent in a correctional institution."

"Pssh," Emma shook her head. "That's just sad."

…

Madison sniffled, her normally cherubic face wan, bags under her eyes as she determinedly peered at the table instead of the cape sitting across from her. "Your name is Madison Clements, yes?" She nodded at the voice. "You are friends with Sophia Hess and Emma Barnes, correct?" She visibly paused before nodding again. "What about Taylor Hebert? What is she to you?"

"No one," Madison shrugged listlessly, "Just a creep who follows us around."

"Is that so?" The voice asked flatly. "Tell me, then, what these charges, including Assault, Endangerment, Theft and Assault with Toxic Substance, are doing being leveled against you?"

The girl flinched, her head drooping so that her curly brown hair covered her face. "Just lies. Taylor always lies. She's a creep like that."

Something heavy slapped the table and she shot up, bloodshot eyes wide as Game Master flipped open a file several inches thick. "Did you know, Ms. Clements, that Ms. Hebert kept notes?" He asked rhetorically, noting the panic worming its way over features. "Very detailed ones, too. 'Today, Emma tripped me as I was going down the stairs to Chemistry. My wrist hurts horribly; I think it might be sprained, but the worst hurt comes from my heart. I thought Emma and I were friends? I tried to tell the Principal Blackwell with Madison as a witness, but when she came in, she lied and said I fell in gym! Why would she do that? I know we don't hang out or anything, but I thought she was nice?'"

Madison cringed, ducking her head so far into her chest she almost shrunk half a foot.

"That seems to be a theme in most of these, you being asked for the truth and, apparently, lying," the Ward continued, flipping a page. "You know what else I noticed? In all the records of the bullying, the harassment, online or otherwise, you, Madison, only seem tangentially involved. These messages and emails originate from the accounts of Emma, Sophia and this Julia girl, but not you. Curious, isn't it?"

"I didn't really care that much," Madison admitted quietly, before shooting up as she realized she had, in a roundabout way, admitted to something. "Not that I did anything! It's all just lies!"

Game Master sighed, leaning back in his chair. He pushed up his visor, rubbing his nose before looking at her with some of the bluest eyes she'd ever seen. Eyes she recognized. "Do you understand how serious this is, Madison?" he asked softly, his gaze piercing her like a pair of icicles. "Taylor could've died in that locker. As it is, she'll be traumatized for life. For someone who 'didn't really care much,' you certainly seem guilt-ridden."

She gulped audibly, her lips trembling as she stared into his eyes.

"You know what this tells me?" He asked, tapping the file. "You consistently only acted when you were around the other girls, but even then what you did was mostly minor pranks. I'd call that Peer Pressure. Taylor even notes that when she came across you by yourself, you ignored her. So tell me, Madison…what were you _really_ doing?"

Madison bit her lips, gaze still locked on his as her eyes began to water. "I-I had to," she admitted shakily. "A-at first, I just wanted to be p-popular, but then…things got worse." She sniffled, tears spilling down her cheeks. "I didn't want to do a-all that, but…when I tried to back out, Sophia…she gave me this look and I…I knew that if I tried it again… _I_ would be next!"

"So, you followed along because you were afraid?" Game Master summarized, leaning forward on his elbows.

"Y-yes," she murmured, "Before Christmas, when I h-heard about the-the locker, I really, really wanted to tell!" She lurched forward, knocking against the edge of the table, her eyes wide. "I really did, you have to believe me! But…but…"

"But what?" The Ward probed gently.

"Taylor…she didn't deserve anything," Madison said thickly, tugging at a lock of her hair. "Not any of it, especially not… _that._ But I realized…if that's what they'd do to someone who'd done nothing wrong…what would they do to _me_?"

Game Master nodded slowly. "Self preservation, then." He tapped the file thoughtfully, closing it with a flick of his finger. "But these charges are _very_ serious, Madison. There's talk of jail time." The girl let out a horrified sob, her hands covering her mouth as tears streamed down her cheeks.

"N-no! Please, you have to believe me!" She grabbed at his hand, her eyes frightened. "I-I didn't want to! I _had_ to! They would've-! They would've…please, no, I swear, please-"

The Ward tugged his hand away, the girl staring at him in despair before she crumpled in on herself, curling up in her chair to cry into her knees. "I think that, if you come forward and tell the truth, the whole truth for the first time in a long time…" She looked up at him with a glimmer of hope in her eyes. "I could ask for leniency. There'd still be consequences, maybe community service, but…jail time would be off the table."

"Yes!" Madison nearly shouted, nodding frantically. "I will! Emma, Sophia, Julia, they did it, all of it! I had to help, but I never wanted to! I swear!"

"Are you willing to sign an affidavit?" Game Master asked, pulling the document from the file along with a pen. The girl bobbed her head agreeably, though she didn't speak as she seemed close to hyperventilating. He stood from the table and circled around to her side, setting the paper in front of her. "Sign here and here, initial here."

Taking up the pen, she quickly scribbled her name and initials in the appropriate places, sighing harshly as she felt a weight she hadn't known she was carrying dissipate. Tears leaked from her eyes again and she sobbed, but this time for the relief of a burden of guilt that had sat in her stomach for almost two years.

Game Master patted her shoulder comfortingly, grunting in surprise when she spun and latched onto him around the waist, her grip making his armor creak. Above her head, he turned to the one-way mirror and nodded.

Behind the glass, Armsmaster nodded back and left the observation room. A pair of armored PRT guards followed him as he strode down the hall. Knocking on the door, he pushed it open to find Miss Militia standing from her chair with a file tucked under her arm. "Emma Barnes," He announced stoically, a part of him relishing the way the blood drained from her face as the officers stepped into the room, "You are under arrest for the litany of charges listed before. You have the right to remain silent-"

Emma let out a frightened squeal as one officer pulled her up from the chair and the other handcuffed her, neither being gentle. "No! You can't do this! Daddy! Don't let them do this!"

"-Anything you can say can and will be used against you in the court of law," Armsmaster continued, unabated. "You have the right to an attorney; if you cannot afford one, one will be afforded to you by the state-"

"Daddy! Help me please! _Daddy! Please!_ "

Alan Barnes slumped down in his chair, mouth agape as his daughter was led away, Armsmaster still mercilessly reading her her Miranda Rights. "…Emma?" He asked faintly, his mouth dry. "My little girl…she…she did…?"

" _Daddy!"_ Emma sobbed distantly.

Alan leaned into his hands, staring blankly at the grey metal table, his blurry reflection just barely visible. "…My little girl," he whispered, " _What have you done?"_

…

…

…

…

 **A/N: I!**

 **LIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIVE!**

 **And I've been fuckin' livin' since my last update! Which is why it's taken so long, because I got a job. And I've been mulling ideas for several stories, old and new, redos and retries, original and fanfiction. Life just has a way of getting in the way.**

 **But, the person who deserves the thanks is that** _ **fucking reviewer**_ **who said 'Shame the story is dead.'**

' **Shame the story is dead.'**

' **Shame. The story. Is** _ **dead.'**_

' _ **DEAD.'**_

 **Guess who was wrong, you smug, pretentious motherfucker?**

 **Anyways, that pissed me off. And me pissed off doesn't break things, me being pissed off gets** _ **shit**_ **done. So hey, here's the next chapter in the continuing adventures of Saul, now with more Taylor, guilt-tripping and action! Hooray!**

 **There'll be a lot more shit to come, and things are gonna pick up in a big way…slowly. This one, in contrast to my usual style, is much more of a slowburn. I wanna take my time with this baby. I gotta feeling it's gonna be big. Big in style, big in substance, big in twists, big in every which way but loose!**

… **That doesn't make sense, but whatever.**

 **I was really surprised by how many people practically leaped to Saul's defense after the Locker. Guess I'm doing something right if people are _that_ indignant about it. Cool.**

 **Also, thanks to everyone who's been suggesting games and whatnot, despite most of them being against the rules I've already laid out. To that effect, here are the** _ **OFFICIAL CONSOLE FIC RULES:**_ **(which will be copy/pasted to my profile, in case anyone wants to take a crack at it. It'll replace my old Naruto/Borderlands challenge because no one ever took the fucking thing despite hundreds of other stories that have way dumber premises, but whatever; no I'm not bitter, shut up)**

 _ **OFFICIAL CONSOLE FIC RULES:**_

 **When the character gains said powers, there is a brief introduction that is vague and not very helpful, and it shall be referred to as the "Power Operating System" or POS.**

 **Character can hold any number of games depending on what the author personally prefers, but three is recommended.**

 **Character receives EXP based on using the system to do battle, but also by playing the games.**

 **The character can interface with televisions, phones, laptops and whatnot _ONLY_ to play games.**

 **No Online Content; such as Warframe, World of Warcraft or any other MMO. Games that have a single-player campaign.**

 **Character is allowed three Traits, one of which is Carry Over and the Abyssal Auction, though those are ultimately up to the author.**

 **When the character levels, they gain points, which can be used to upgrade traits or buy new ones.**

 **When a character beats a game, they receive a Trait that is thematically appropriate to said game.**

 **Natural Traits come from the character connecting to the game, which will introduce new metaphysical elements into their world. Will have unintended consequences, good and bad. For Example: The Spider Totem for Spider-Man, or The Outsider from Dishonored.**

 **Beyond that, have fun.**

 **So there you have it. Anyone wants to take a crack at it, let me know and I'll post the name of the author and the story on my profile-if it's good.**

 **Big thanks, as always, to NorthSouthGorem, AustinYeeeed and Dairegh for the chattin' and the correctin' and all that nonsense. Why don't you go see what they're up to and tell 'em Sol said hi?**

 **Stay Awesome.**

 **~Soleneus**

 **P.S.: Sort of a funny thing, but 'Shrinking In' was originally going to be the name of a story I was writing about my experiences with PTSD, but I couldn't write more than a page before the flashbacks got too strong and I just couldn't continue. Might as well make a little reference to it.**

 **And before anyone asks, it's not from military service.**

 **Stay Awesome Some More.**

 **~still Soleneus**


	9. Just Your Average Superhero Day

The two teenage boys leaning back in their seats were different in looks, one with darker skin but bright blue eyes, the other pale with grey eyes, but the expressions they wore were identical: barely-concealed boredom.

"So it was just you interrogating her?" The paler one asked, flicking through a file. "I'm surprised they had you do it with _this_ case, especially for your first time."

"Armsmaster said something about me being the right age for it, like I'd be able to empathize with her," the other replied, eyes moving between screens showing views bouncing from building-to-building, or carefully flying above a collection of stores. "It worked out, so I guess he was right."

The first boy furrowed his brow in confusion, flipping between pages. "Wait…this says you were with her… _just_ her. Where were her parents? She's a minor, any confession or affidavit she signed couldn't be used in court."

The second boy reached over and tapped a subsection. "Her parents waived their right to be there," he pointed out. "I think they knew they'd be wrapped around her little finger. That, or they didn't care."

"Oh," the pale teen muttered, checking his phone. "It's about dinner time; you want anything, Saul?"

"What's on the menu?" Saul asked, looking from the feed of Vista taking a break, her pale legs aimlessly kicking as she sat on the edge of a building.

"Chow mein, Cobb salad and…fried chicken," he replied, scratching the side of his head.

"Chow mein with some salad on the side, please. Also tea, jasmine if they have it, oolong if they don't." Saul gave him a thumbs up and nod. "Thanks, Dean."

The older boy nodded and left the room, leaving the game-based Ward alone in the Console room. He wasn't sitting bored for long as the computer in front of him lit up with an alarming series of beeps. Or a beeping series of alarms, one of the two.

Sitting up, he double-clicked on a flashing button, the view switching to that of a camera across the street from a gas station. Though the picture was blurry, he could clearly make out a gun-wielding figure threatening the cashier. His eyes scanned another screen, this one showing dot representations of the various Capes and Wards on a background of the city. Reaching over, he activated the communications array.

"Aegis, a gas station is being held up, Gary's Family Gas and Grocery on 108th and Merigold. One perpetrator, appears to be armed with a pistol."

 _"On my way,"_ Aegis replied, the view from his visor blurring slightly as he made a sharp turn and poured on the speed.

Shifting his focus to another computer, Saul opened a new page and began to type. _Incident report: armed gunman caught in the process of robbing a store, Gary's Family Gas and Grocery, 108th and Merigold. Ward Aegis dispatched to intervene._

He looked up as the flying Ward arrived right when the robber fled out the front door. All he had to was swoop down and hold out his arm, and the robber ran right into it. Aegis flattened the barrel of the gun with his heel then hauled the robber up, zip-tying him to the bike rack before taking the ill-gotten gains back inside.

 _"Aegis reporting in. Caught the criminal, destroyed his weapon and secured him for pickup. Dropping beacon and resuming patrol."_

"Good work Aegis, Console out." Saul switched back to the other computer and resumed typing. _Ward Aegis successfully apprehended perpetrator and returned stolen property. Beacon dropped, perpetrator taken into custody by police officers. End incident report._

Sighing and rubbing the back of his neck, the teenager leaned back in his chair with his eyes fixed on the ceiling. "Fuck me, I'm _so_ goddamed _**bored**_."

He jumped slightly as the communications array crackled. _"Vista reporting the end of my patrol. No incidents to report,"_ she grumbled, and Saul could see her kicking disinterestedly at a bottle cap as she walked down the street. _"What am I even doing here? Nothing's happened on my route in_ days _."_

Her tone was a mix of disheartened and bored, and he could tell by the angle of her visor that she was slumping sadly. "Hey, don't talk like that, Vista," he said gently, "You're doing important work, you know? We all do, sure, but when you're out on patrol, you're standing as a…as a symbol, right? Like a symbol of protection. People see you walking by and they think, 'there goes one of our heroines, keeping us safe,' even if, uh, you didn't actually do anything…what'd you do?"

" _Well, there were a couple of tourists who'd gotten lost,"_ the young Ward began slowly, " _And I called a taxi for an old lady whose car broke down."_

"There you go," Saul said comfortingly. "Who knows what could've happened to them if you hadn't been there? They could've gotten mugged, or hit by a car or…struck by lightning or something. It doesn't seem like much, I know, trust me. You think I wanna be stuck on Console duty? But…" He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It's all important, you know? Even the small stuff… _especially_ the small stuff. It's not just the big heroic battles that make a hero, you know?...Right?"

"… _Yeah, I guess,"_ Vista replied, sounding like she didn't quite believe him but also not as disheartened as before. " _You might wanna work on your pep talks."_

"Heroic Speeches, 101," he mocked himself, "First lesson: Be a hero. Second lesson: talk about teamwork. Third lesson…there is no third lesson, class dismissed." Saul sighed as she giggled quietly. "But hey, Vista…I don't know if it's worth anything coming from me, but…you're a hero to me. You're my favorite hero."

"… _I thought that was Miss Militia,"_ she whispered back, tried to hide how touched she felt by his words, even if she didn't quite believe him. He may have been quiet, but it wasn't hard to hear him nerding out whenever she left the room.

Saul shrugged, unaware of the door opening behind him. "She's up there, believe me, and so's Brandish, but you? Number one heroine all the way." He paused in thought, humming. "Okay, she's number one in older heroines, but you're just number one overall."

" _I don't believe you,"_ Vista said cheerfully, her camera bobbing as she skipped. " _But thanks anyway. You big weirdo. I'm making my way back to base, be there in ten. Vista out."_

"Remember to stop by the Console control if you want a hug," he offered before closing the channel and leaning back in his chair.

"I've been replaced, then?" He jumped violently, throwing his pen in the air before instinctually following it, sticking to the ceiling as he looked down at an amused Miss Militia. "I'm not sure how I feel about that."

Saul exhaled noisily, calming his racing heart before peeling from the ceiling and landing silently. "…How long were you standing there?" He asked carefully, while also thinking _thanks a-fucking-lot, Spider Senses!_

"Long enough to hear that I've been replaced on your list," Militia replied, her dark eyes glittering as she tapped her chin in thought. "And here I thought we were getting along."

"We are!" The Ward said quickly, "I mean, I hope we are, but…to tell you the truth, I did kinda lie…"

Miss Militia crossed her arms and arched an eyebrow. "Oh?" She questioned casually.

"Well, no offense to you or Vista, but there can be only one favorite hero of mine, and I live with her."

Militia recalled his file, which she'd looked over a few times over the past months. "…I see," she nodded, mollified. Then she looked at him and said nothing.

Saul looked back, blinking slowly. His gaze darted around the room as the awkward silence grew like a cloud of gas just waiting for a spark to set off a massive, devastating explosion. "…So…" He began, grimacing slightly. "Did you need something or…?"

"I figured you might want a distraction," she replied lightly, holding up a book. "You're taking your test in a few days and I wanted to offer my help with that."

"Are you bored, too?" The Ward asked flatly.

"It's been a slow night," Miss Militia shrugged at the admittance, pulling a spare chair around. "Do you want my company?"

Saul nodded and sat down, his eyes sweeping back over the feeds. "Please."

"When is the proper time to use the turn signal?"

And that was how Dean found them when he returned a few minutes later; his fellow teenager checking the cameras and occasionally messaging one of the patrolling Wards while the heroine probed his knowledge of driving etiquette.

…

The next day found Saul waking up in bed, rubbing his eyes and feeling slightly confused before realizing that he'd had a peaceful rest, no nightmares of his or Taylor's to wake him. He hummed thoughtfully as he pulled the covers aside and made his way to the bathroom. _I should check in on her later,_ he thought, flipping open the seat of the toilet, _I don't know how much control she can exert over me or how much she can see, and I'm not comfortable with the idea of_ anyone _being able to make me do something I don't want to, girl or not and wow this isn't the place for these thoughts._

Finishing his business, he checked his Aunt's room, finding the bed messy and empty. Nodding to himself, he returned to his room and slipped his phone in his pocket before making his way to the kitchen. "Mornin', Cortana," he greeted casually as her purple avatar flickered to life on the counter. "How was your night?"

"Fairly restful, got a little work done on my projects, both my own and with Dragon," she shrugged, watching as he cracked and whisked eggs. "Got any plans for today?"

"Make some breakfast, look over the test, play a bit of _that_ game…" He sighed ruefully at the thought. "Then I'll check in on Taylor, see how she's doing. Maybe I'll make dinner. That's all I can think of."

"Not bad for a day off," Cortana said agreeably, sitting down by the coffee machine. "Taylor…she can control bugs, right?"

"Mm," Saul paused in his whisking, "She also has something approaching a weaker version of my Spider Body, and some sort of mental… _connection_ with me."

She gazed at him searchingly. "...'Connection' how?"

"I'm not sure how deep it is, but I've had her nightmares and she's heard music I'm playing in my head," he sucked his teeth uncertainly, "And, well, when she was trying out her powers for the first time, they… _affected_ me. Like…my body wanted to do what she said, but my mind resisted and I just ended up kinda stumbling around with a migraine."

"I don't like that," his AI companion warned, "I don't like that _at all_. Your 'connection' and whatever she could do with it is presents a tactical threat that we have no defense against."

"I wouldn't go _that_ far," Saul commented cautiously, "Taylor doesn't seem like the type who'd take control and play me like some kind of puppet, Cortana."

"And how would you know that?" She questioned sharply, only to look sheepish as he tapped his temple. "Oh."

"It goes both ways, you know," he paused in thought, "At least the communication side of it. I'm not sure I can control her, though."

"See?" Cortana crowed triumphantly, "She could be a danger to us! What if someone kidnaps her family and holds them hostage? Are you _that_ confident that you could resist her control if she gets desperate?"

The Ward grimaced as he nodded, accepting her point. "Then I just need to come up with a method of locking her out if I need to."

"Or you could find a game that has mental resistances as part of the kit," Cortana added, "Something with telepathy, maybe."

"Mm," he hummed, stirring his eggs as they cooked and sprinkling a bit of cheese on top. Serving himself up, he grabbed a fork and poured himself some orange juice before taking his breakfast to the living room. Setting it down on the coffee table, he turned the TV on and let it play quietly as he ate and flipped through a booklet.

 _"-second week of chaos as various cartels war against smaller gangs and the police. All visitors to Mexico are recommended to stay inside or to leave immediately-"_

Saul casually switched the channel, sipping his juice without even looking up.

 _"-closing the net on several confirmed members of the Italian Mafia. No news on why action is being taken now, but anonymous sources whisper of bribes not being paid-"_

He switched channels again, setting the booklet aside and scraping the remainder of his eggs into his mouth.

 _"-new scandal in Hollywood as several important names in the film industry have been arrested due to evidence of sexual assault coming to light-"_

Saul switched it off as he gathered his dishes and carried them back to the kitchen to wash them. He barely glanced up as Cortana's avatar appeared on his shoulder. "I've got a package coming later today," she said, leaning against his cheek. "It'll be pretty heavy, so be careful."

"What did you buy off the internet this time?" He sighed, glancing at the brand new coffee machine sitting innocently next to an equally shiny blender…next to a silver double-door fridge that still had the sticker on it.

"I didn't _buy_ anything; it was more of a trade, really," Cortana answered, crossing her arms. "I'll let you know when it's here. You should get back to _that_ game." She patted his cheek as he exhaled noisily. "You know it'll be useful, Saul. You just have to power through."

"Yeah, yeah…I know," he pouted, grabbing a bottle of water and some snacks that he carried to his room. Setting them on his desk, he sat in his chair, pulled his cord out and hooked it up to his laptop. Opening his disc drive, he removed Batman: Arkham Knight and replaced it with another game, pushing it closed with a quiet whirr. As the company names played out, he sighed wearily and prepared to play. "God I hate turn-based RPGs…"

And there he stayed for hours, slaving away at the game while occasionally munching on a snack or going to the bathroom, only interrupted by the ring of a doorbell. "My package is here!" Cortana announced, nearly giggling to herself. "Hurry up and grab it!" She called as he went to the door. "And remember to lift with your knees!"

A few minutes later, Saul staggered back with a wooden crate nearly four feet tall, his face red. "Jesus!" He wheezed, setting it on the floor carefully, as if afraid it would buckle the foundations. "What the fuck is in here?!"

"Unpack it, unpack it!" She clapped excitedly, bouncing in place. "C'mon, quickly!"

It was a simple task to tear the box apart with his super strength, leaving the object bare: a grayish-green metallic cube, the surface broken by lines and a single plug on the back. "Seriously, what is it?" He asked the AI, running a hand over the metallic shell.

"It's a surprise," Cortana grinned coquettishly, pointing at his shelf of knick-knacks. "Push that over to the left." He did as instructed, revealing a regular outlet. "Now, put your thumbs flat against the plug-ins and wait a second." Again, he did so, eyebrows arching as light shone from within the plugs. There came a beep and the outlet withdrew into the wall, sliding away to reveal a large depression. "Now, slide it in!"

Giving her a flat stare, he put his shoulder against the metal box and shoved it home, a reverberating _click_ shuddering up the wall. "Now what?"

"Give it a second," she replied, waving him back. "Behold!"

The lines in the box shone with a brief light before it began to unfold with a light scraping of metal on metal; the outside folded out, one section spreading across the carpet while another crept up the wall. The section on the wall stopped against the ceiling, a section peeling away and falling perpendicular to the ground, fixing in place with a quiet buzz as the 'box' went still.

"Ta-da!" Cortana cheered, her avatar appearing on top the metal table, walking around the edge to check it out. "Our very own workbench/fabricator! With this, I can finally start working on some of our projects without having to get Dragon to turn the puppy-dog eyes on Armsmaster! Oh! And for our debut, get in your spider suit!"

"A _what_?" Saul sputtered, dumbfounded, "Which one? No, wait! Cortana, 'splain! 'Splain right now!"

Her avatar grew until it was about his size and gazed soulfully into his eyes, her lower lip trembling. "Please, Saul? Don't you trust me?"

It was devastatingly cute.

He twitched, gesturing at her pleading expression. "…That's not fair," he muttered, ejecting his disc tray and swapping discs. "You know I trust you more than almost anyone."

Her overdone pout vanished and she smiled gently, reaching out to brush her fingertips across his cheek. And although it was only a projection, he still shivered at the phantom of tingles under his skin. "I know," she replied, "I just want to surprise you."

"You always do," he grunted, rolling his shoulders as the red and blue suit with a white spider symbol appeared in his body between blinks. "How do I do this?"

The table rotated until it was standing up. "Just lean against it and let it carry you down," she instructed, watching intently as he did just that, the workbench twisting back into a flat surface. "And relax. Begin scan."

Thin metal slats rose in an arc over his midsection and a beam of scintillating light shone out onto his body. Slowly, it moved up and down the bench and hologram replication began to form above him. "Woah," he breathed, eyes scanning the flickering data as the scan broke down the functions of his suit. "I'm pretty sure having something this technologically advanced is illegal without a license…or several."

"The question you should be asking is, 'Did I use the back door I planted in your Ward credentials to slip into the system and get all four licenses?'" Cortana asked instead, "Followed by, 'Did I also bury the files under so much old data that it'll take even Dragon a decade to find?' Because the answer is yes to both. With this, we won't have to entirely rely on anyone else to make more web or upgrade your gear. And if we have to break away from the PRT, we won't be out of luck when it comes to refills."

"That makes sense," Saul nodded as the scan finished, rolling off the table as the hologram replication descended onto the surface. "So, deep scanning with holographic recreation. Can it run simulations if we make changes to the tech of the suit or gadgets?"

"No, the onboard computational ability is rather limited, scanning and fabrication only," Cortana shook her head, purple tresses waving with the motion. "I can handle simulations myself, or task a Subroutine to handle it. So…what do you think?"

"Well…" He dismissed his Spider Suit and examined the table thoroughly, stroking a non-existent goatee in thought. "After vigorous self-debate and ponderous reflection, I can firmly state, with all requisite confidence in my opinion, that this is goddamn dope. Kinda wish you told me about it, but I always appreciate what you've done for me."

"Well," the AI smiled, stepping a bit closer and leaning on the workbench, brushing a few loose strands of hair out of her eyes, "Not _just_ for you."

"Oh?" Saul arched his eyebrows interestedly.

She sidled closer, their noses only inches apart. "No," Cortana murmured, reaching down to tap the phone in his pocket, which vibrated in response, "There's two of us in this now, remember?"

"Oh, I'm very much aware of you, Cortana," he nearly whispered, not noticing his voice drop to a husky pitch, "And what you've done. Without you…" He gestured helplessly with one hand while the other slid through hers, "I couldn't do it without you. And I _never_ …want to do it without you."

Her warm smile widened a bit, her eyes sparkling. "Me neither," she admitted softly, their gazes locked, blue eyes peering into purple.

Projected avatar or not, he got lost in the depths of her eyes, glittering with secrets yet told and emotion far beyond what any program should've been capable of. Unconsciously, he began to inch closer…

Then he jumped as his phone rang. "Gah!" Shaking his surprise off, he pulled his phone from his pocket and frowned at unknown number. "Who's this?"

"It's a landline number," Cortana answered, frowning at the sudden sensation of distance, even though, physically, they hadn't moved. "Checking…the number's registered to one Daniel Hebert."

"Oh," Saul said in realization, answering the call, "Saul Dewitt speaking."

 _"Hey, uh, Saul,"_ Taylor greeted him with a note of anxiety, _"I was wondering if…if you might want to come by? I mean, if you aren't doing anything…"_

He quickly checked the time on his phone. "Huh. I was actually gonna call you soon and ask about coming over. Is it alright with you?" He glanced at the window. Then added, "And with your dad, too?"

She didn't hide the loud, relieved sigh she let out. _"Yeah, it's fine,"_ Taylor replied, the nervousness gone from her voice. _"Oh! It's almost lunchtime, do you want anything? I was…going to make sandwiches…"_

"Sounds good, I'll be over in a bit," Saul said, pulling open his dresser and digging for clothes. "See you soon."

"I'll get started on fabricating the integrated web-shooters and gloves," Cortana added, watching him ready for a shower with a wistful expression. "It should be a good test."

"Can't wait to see how it does," the Ward replied, glancing at her over shoulder. "You know you're coming, right? I'm not leaving you behind."

"I know," she answered, "But I'll have to be silent and it'll just be easier to focus on this."

"For today, at least," he allowed with a shrug. "I mean, I plan to tell her about you soon."

"'Cause you 'owe her?'" Cortana asked sardonically.

"Yup," Saul threw a towel over his shoulder and made for the bathroom. Her violet avatar watched him go, sighing as he disappeared from her view.

"-friggin' organics intruding, not like I _could_ anyway…" she muttered to herself, shaking her head as her avatar flickered and died.

…

Taylor shot up from her seat on the couch as she heard the sound of a car pulling into her driveway, rushing to the window to worriedly peer out and expecting to see her dad's beat-up truck parking. Instead, she found a dark purple car that was on the higher end and although it looked and had a very familiar crest on it, she couldn't name it for the life of her. Her eyebrows went up as the car door opened and Saul stepped out, bending down and retrieving a few bags from inside. Then he took a few steps from the car, peered around at the street and nodded when he saw no traffic.

Then his car disappeared like it had never existed.

Taylor jumped in surprise, then tumbled back onto the carpet with a squeak as Saul's head snapped around unnaturally fast to look at her. She hit the floor but rolled with her momentum, smoothly ending up back on her feet, though she swayed a little at how quickly her reflexes had made her move. Shaking her head, she bolted for the door and pulled it open just her (…friend? Psychically-linked spider-man-friend? Bug buddy?) approached the steps leading up to her door. "Watch out for the bottom step!" She warned, seeing his foot lifting.

Saul glanced down at said step, noticing that it was visibly rotten and on the verge of falling apart. "Might wanna replace that," he said, stepping over it until he was in the doorway.

Taylor blinked, her neck craning as her eyes tracked up from his chest to look at his face. Which was several inches above her own. She hadn't noticed until just then that he was taller than she was, and she was usually one the tallest of the girls in her grade. _I guess being curled up in someone's arms with my head on their shoulder isn't the best position to judge their height, huh?_

"Yeah, not really," the Ward answered, scratching the back of his neck before blinking. "Ah. You didn't say that out loud, did you?"

She shook her head slowly, clearing her throat and stepping away. "Wanna come in?" _Of course he does, stupid, you only_ invited him over _._ "I've got sandwiches made. I hope you like turkey and cheese."

"Sure do," he smiled, walking in and holding his plastic bags up. "Hope you don't mind that I grabbed a few things on the way here, thought we could make a little…in-house picnic out of it," he finished a tad awkwardly before digging in the first bag to reveal a bottle of soda. "I got some soda, some root beer; I don't know about you, but it's my favorite."

"It's good, yeah," she nodded, taking the bottle from him and examining it. "Oh, this is the good stuff."

"And-" He withdrew a bag from within the second bag, revealing it to be chips with a red maple leaf proudly emblazoned on it, "-I got some All Dressed chips! I've been looking for 'em, but we're farther from Canada then we were in Seattle so I couldn't find any. Finally found some at the grocery store a mile from home, who would've guessed…" Then he brought forth his final offering: a bag of apples. "And some apples, because…apples are good."

"Yeah…" She reached out and took the bags from him, subconsciously giddy at the ease with which she carried it all, and waved at the couch. "I'll put it all together, if you want to sit down…"

"Alright," Saul nodded, easing himself onto the somewhat dipping furniture, his eyes following her back as she went into the kitchen before turning his gaze to the rest of the house. Though there were pictures, the occasional old childhood drawing and family photos, the house had an oddly lifeless aura to it. Like the people who lived there didn't really consider it a home, just a place to eat and sleep. "Thanks."

Taylor set a plate before him on the worn coffee table then circled around to the other end of the couch to sit as well. "No problem," she muttered, picking up a red-dusted chip and examining it. "All Dressed…what does that even mean?"

"It's Canadian," he shrugged in reply, sticking one in his mouth and chewing. "Never had 'em before?"

"Never even heard of them before," she agreed, taking a delicate nibble out of the chip and making surprised noise. "Oh hey! These are actually pretty good!"

"I know, right?" Saul chuckled, peeling his sandwich apart to pour a handful of chips inside, smushing it down with the bread. He turned upon hearing a similar series of crunches and saw his mental connectee doing the same thing. "You do it too?"

"I mean, yeah," Taylor replied with a casual shrug, and they shared a smile before digging in.

Their lunch was consumed in relative silence, the crunch of potato chips and lettuce aside. Like all things, though, lunch had to end and without something to distract them, the two fell into an awkward silence.

After about five long, silent minutes, Saul sighed. "Alright, this shit has _got_ to stop," he stated, turning to face Taylor directly. "We know each other and if I'm being honest, I like you. So here's what's up: I wanted to come over and see how you were holding up and talk about your powers…and our connection, both mentally and physically…" He paused, blinking. "Wow, that could be taken out of context."

Taylor giggled a bit, her cheeks slightly pink. "I wanted to talk about my powers as well, and our connection. Why don't you go first?" Planting her hands on the couch, she slowly slid herself closer.

"About our connection," the Ward began, tapping his chin in thought as he tried to figure out the right way to express his desire. "I want to close it."

"W-what?" She blinked, her face filled with hurt even as her thoughts raced. "Why?!" _I thought he liked me?_

"I just said I did, Taylor, and I promised I'd never lie to you," Saul said firmly, reaching out to touch her knee gently. "Though I should've worded it better. I want us to learn how to close the connection, or at least block it off at will. As intimate as it is to feel your thoughts and emotions, there are some things we shouldn't know about each other." _Wow, I shouldn't have used the word 'intimate.' And I am now suddenly aware that I am alone in a girl's house…with a girl. This is unknown territory. Maybe I should've brought my Xbox?_

Taylor, too, was suddenly aware of the fact that she was indeed female and he, indeed, male, and that they both were, indeed, teenagers and, in fact, alone, in her home, with no supervision. _A teenage boy and a teenage girl having that sort of connection would be weird, now that I think about it. I don't want to know what kind of depths the teenage mind can sink too, especially not a guy's…not that I have any room to talk,_ she flushed slightly, remembering how, two days prior, her savior had made to leave her hospital room and been stopped by a nurse for reasons she couldn't remember, the reason being she'd been staring at his butt the entire time.

… _You really think my butt's nice?_ Saul asked, shyly looking away from her with his face red.

 _Well…yeah,_ she admitted adjusting her glasses and in a total coincidence, hiding her burning face as well. _I…I think all of you is nice._

 _Not_ _ **all**_ _of me,_ he replied darkly, and she could she flashes of images in mind, a handsome though arrogant boy thrashing as lightning pours into him, and sense of pure rage and savage satisfaction diluted only by the echoing thought of _**NO ONE FUCKS WITH CECILLY.**_ … _I think you're nice, too._

Slightly taken aback by the images, Taylor shakes her head and her smile, though slight, becomes brittle. _Thanks for thinking that, but you're wrong._

 _Taylor,_ fingers gently but firmly tugged on her chin until she looked at him, her brown meeting his blue. His gaze, even despite their connection, felt as if it had pierced through her veil and laid bare all of her secrets. _I'm not wrong. Going through what you did…anyone else would've been comatose or went crazy, but you? You were lucid and talking to me within minutes. You're strong, Taylor, stronger than I think you give yourself credit for. There's beauty in strength._

He paused, realizing that they'd both leaned in as he spoke and that he'd discovered that her eyes weren't actually brown, but hazel, soft chips of green sparkling subtly in the depths that seemed normal on the surface but, when exposed to light at just the right angle, the true quality was revealed.

 _Ahem. The point is, you're wrong._ He cleared his throat and sat back, though he smiled. _Now, I have no idea on how to practice shutting you out or vice-versa. But I think if we throw a bunch of ideas at the wall, something might stick._

They both jumped slightly as Taylor sneezed, the sudden noise sounding as loud as a gunshot in the silence. _Why was that so_ loud _?_ They thought at the same time, before looking at each other. _Have…have we been talking with just our minds?_ Taylor asks, reaching up to feel her lips.

 _I…I think so,_ Saul replied, holding his jaw. His eyes went wide as he noticed that, despite clearly speaking, his jaw did not move and no sound came from his mouth. He smacked his lips noisily. "Holy shit."

"Maybe distance has something to do with it?" She pondered, twirling the end of a strand of hair in her fingers. "I could feel your emotions this morning, surprise and…something else. And I could see and hear a little of what you were seeing, something about a bench of some sort?"

"And now, it's almost ridiculously _easy to think at each other,_ he replied, effortlessly switching methods of communication. _I think this might be both harder and simpler than we think. Let's think on it more._

"Alright," Taylor shook her head, adjusting her glasses and blinking. "So, the reason I called you is because I, well, I wanted to talk to you about being-or becoming, I guess-a…a hero." The last part had been nearly whispered, but Saul had heard it clearly, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

Leaning back on the couch, he peered at her searchingly, his eyes focused on her and her alone. The silence was almost oppressive before he broke it with a simple word. "Why?"

"W-what?" She sputtered, "What do you mean, 'why?' I have super powers! Not…not super-impressive powers, I guess, but I can still use them!"

Saul kept his face carefully blank and tried to repress the feeling of warmth and pride in her instinctual answer. "But why would you use them as a Hero? You don't owe anyone, least of all me, the PRT or even society, not after what you've been through. Why should you put yourself in danger when you could follow a safer career path?"

Taylor snorted ungracefully. "What possible career could I use _bug control_ for?"

He didn't even have to think. "Exterminator. Pest control. No pesticides, all organic pest control, people would go crazy for that shit. It's not glamorous, but it could be lucrative." The Spider-powered teen bobbed his head in thought. "You get the right bugs, spiders or silkworms, and you could sell silk or silk clothes if you're good enough. Also, beekeeping. You could call it Hebert's Honey. Hell, if you get skilled enough, you could do all three and make fucking bank."

The desire on Taylor's face was plain as day even before her eyes darted around the living room, picking out the old furniture and electronics. But that desire warred with another and although the struggle was mighty, the other won out. "Money is nice…very nice," she admitted with a sigh, before looking up and locking gazes with the Ward. Her eyes were hard and determined, with a firmness like that of diamond. "But I have power. I can't sit idly by when something bad happens, not anymore. If something _did_ happen, and I could've stopped it, but I didn't?" She shook her head, brown tresses tossing about her face. "I couldn't live with myself."

"Because when you have the power to intervene, and you don't," Saul added, his soft voice belying the absolute, iron-clad will shining in his eyes, "The consequences are on you."

Her heart thumped almost painfully, and his thundered in his ears like the drums of war. She reached out and took his hand, grasping tightly. "Exactly."

He took her other hand then gently but firmly pulled her close and hugged her as hard as he could. He rested his chin on her crown and she nestled into the hollow of his throat, clutching him just as tightly. She felt a brief moment of worry when she couldn't hear his heartbeat, until she realized their beat was the same.

 _Christ, Taylor,_ he thought, _I don't know what I'm feeling, only that they're_ all _good._

She felt his emotions, a heady mix of pride, admiration, awe and camaraderie, all directed at her. She sighed contently against him and allowed herself to bask in them like they were the sun and she, a cat.

 _Whatever you want to do, I'll support you._ Saul affirmed, _However I can._

Though she didn't want to, Taylor pulled away and met his eyes once more. "I want to be a Hero," she stated levelly.

"Then I'll train you," he returned, a small smile curving his lips. "I'll tell the PRT I'm trying to make up for what So- _Hess_ did and recruiting you at the same time. They'll buy it. But…"

She frowned and shuddered as something hot wormed its way through her belly. "...But what?"

"You like me now," he said, his smile becoming sharper, "Soon… _you won't._ "

…

She hurried down the sidewalk towards her firm, huffing as she vainly attempted to simultaneously jog in high heels without messing up the creases of her suit and skirt. Brushing blonde hair out of her eyes, she once again cursed her husband for taking the car, her daughter for distracting her, the bus for being late and a hundred other things. So distracted was she that she didn't notice the hoodlum waiting just inside the mouth of an alley.

She did notice, however, when he roughly grabbed her by the arm and spun her into the brick wall, one arm shoving her face into the brick work while the other pawed at her expensive purse.

She'd thrown an arm up to stop her face from meeting brick and as the hoodlum yanked on her purse and she felt one of the straps snap, she looked up at the cloudy sky with a deadpan expression. "...Really?" She asked the sky, which gave her no answer. Sighing, she flopped against the wall as if giving up and let her purse slip. Then, as he made to run, she _moved._

She snagged him by the arm and, far more easily than he had handled her, spun him around, drove the flat of her palm into the side of his jaw, her knee into his groin, then twisted his arm around behind his back and slammed him into the wall.

"First it was the _car_ , then it was the _girls,_ then it was the _bus_ and now _this!"_ She muttered angrily, twisting the wanna-be mugger's arm. "You broke my purse, got my blouse all dirty and _tore my skirt!"_ She growled into his ear, applying more pressure to his wrist and drawing a pained whine. "This was the wrong day to mess with me, idiot!"

"Stop right-!" Someone landed in the alley behind her, scanning the situation and understanding what happened in a second. "-Oh. Guess you didn't need my help."

"A few seconds earlier would've been nice," she grouched, shooting him an acidic glare over her shoulder.

The lightly-armored figure of the PRTs newest Ward shrugged at her. "I'm not a precog, I only barely saw it happen out of the corner of my eye. Not much I can do there. But hey, let me tie him up for…for…"

He trailed off upon noticing her face which, despite being bare, he'd seen many times. "Holy _Shit_ ," Game Master breathed, his almost reverent tone sending a jolt of energy directly to her ego, "You're _Brandish_."

The mugger stiffened as he realized _who_ , exactly, he'd tried to rob. She gave her patented Hair Flick #23 and arched a blonde eyebrow at him. "So I am."

The Ward started to shake in what Brandish recognized as him repressing an ear-splitting squeal, but impressively managed to hold it in. Clearing his throat, Game Master took the criminal off her hands and tied him to a nearby streetlight with what looked like webs spraying from his wrists before touching the side of his visor. His jaw moved soundlessly, and she realized he must've included some form of muffling in his mask; a smart move for a teenager, even if the 'faceless soldier' his getup thematically represented was a little off-putting.

Nodding to himself, he tapped the side of his visor, looked to her…then proceeded to freak out. "Oh my _god_ , you're _Brandish!_ " He repeated in disbelief, clapping his hands together and nearly bouncing in place. "Oh, I'm a big fan, it's such an honor to meet you!" He held out a hand and, somewhat bemused and amused, she shook it. And then continued to shake it because he wouldn't let go. "That time when you fought Fenja she was all about to stomp on Flashbang and you blinded her with a hard-light axe and she tripped and fell on that McDonalds? That was _awesome!"_

 _I may have made a mistake,_ Carol thought as the young man continued to shake her hand.

"And then Dallon v. Croshaw set the bar for Cape-on-Cape violence for years to come! It was amazing how you tore apart every shred of evidence and turned his own defense against him, he couldn't even look up at the end and-" He noticed he was still shaking her hand, "-and I'm shaking your hand too much, I'm sorry, it's just…" Game Master released her hand and stepped back, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "You're one of my favorite heroes. Oh! Could I get an autograph?" He patted himself down, frantically looking for a pen and paper.

Carol couldn't help but chuckle under her breath as he berated himself for forgetting to pack his equipment properly and reached into her purse to withdraw her own before remembering the broken strap. "Oh, right…just great…" She brushed down her blouse, but that did little to get rid of the red streaks on what had once been pristine white.

"Ah, you got dirty," the Ward muttered to himself, rubbing his chin. "One sec, let me see if this works…" His jaw moved soundlessly again and his posture changed. He stood straight and proud, though with calm, casual and gentle air. Carol almost thought it felt…holy. Game Master wiggled his fingers at her and the dirt on her blouse vanished, the tear in her skirt disappeared and the broken strap of her purse fixed itself.

She patted herself down, eyebrows arched. Her jacket, blouse and skirt were good as new, and even an old grease stain carefully hidden under a flower pin had been wiped away. "…What? How?"

The Ward wiggled his fingers again, though nothing happened. "Magic," he said playfully, before looking away. "So, uh, about that autograph…"

She fished a notepad and pen out of her purse and gestured for him to spin around. Using his back as a surface, she uncapped her pen. "Who do I make it out to?"

 _Don't think about making out, don't think about making out,_ "Uh, Game Master? That's…that's my name."

"...You know, there's this new woman working at my firm," Carol remarked casually, writing out a brief message, "Very nice woman and also, coincidentally, a fan as well. She told me all about her nephew Saul, she really seems to love him dearly, and about his favorite heroines." She capped her pen and tore the page out, handing it to the stiff Ward. "If you see him around here, hand that to him, will you?"

He took the autograph and watched her walk away with a confident strut to her steps, then looked down at the note. _You could shine so much brighter with New Wave, Saul. But I look forward to seeing you grow, regardless. Love, Brandish._ And her signature, wide and looping, was beneath it. "Hm," Saul hummed and tucked it away, shooting a web line at the top of the nearest building and launching himself skyward. "Man, that's damn tempting…"

As she walked away, Carol pulled out her phone and glanced down at a blank text aimed at her daughter's number. _A powerful new Cape who's also a fan? We could use a bit more support…maybe some…_ inter-agency _teamwork would draw him in?_ Mind made up, she began to tap a message out to Victoria.

…

Can't believe I actually met Brandish, the woman Cecilly looked up to most of her life. Truth be told, I liked Glory Girl more, but that was because she was my age. Though she did have a boyfriend…but teen romances are _transient_ , so I wasn't completely out of the running. And hey, she does have a sister.

I pulled my feet back and backflipped over a traffic light, landing lightly on top of a bus. My HUD read ten o'clock, which meant I'd been at my second Daylight Patrol for over an hour now and while I wasn't feeling tired, I could've used a little break.

Turning on my music, I let it wash over me.

After I promised Taylor that I'd help her become a hero, we ended up cuddling for a bit on the couch. We never actually got started on working out how to block one another out before her dad came home and I had to leave. Not because he scared me or anything, but Cecilly was on her way home and I wanted to make dinner.

That morning, I met up with Armsmaster and Miss Militia at the Downtown HQ before setting off on patrol, though not before I'd sent a message to Director Piggot about training Taylor.

And besides the mugging where I met Brandish, nothing had happened that day.

Checking my HUD, I saw I had a few more minutes for my break, so I cranked the music up and closed my eyes.

…

"Hey, Angie."

"Yeah, Fred?"

"Lookit this."

"Is that…a person surfing on a bus?"

"Looks like it."

"…What's he doing?"

"Air-guitaring, I think. Wait, no, something else…saxophone?"

"No, see, look at his arms. It's a bagpipe."

"A bagpipe? What's that kid listening-wow, he's putting his hips into that."

"Hold on…"

" _-It's a long way to the top, if you wanna rock and roll!"_

"Ooh. Kid's got good taste, if nothing else."

"…Wanna put it on YouTube?"

"…Yep."

…

Noon rolled around with little fanfare, with the exception of a purse-snatcher who ran directly into traffic when I dropped down in front of him. I managed to yank him out of the street, but he ended up being clipped by a truck and shattered a leg. That wasn't fun to look at that, but at least I got the purse back.

Sighing, I sat down on a nearby bench and took a bite out of my chicken sandwich. It'd gone cold in the time it had taken me to find a spot away from the high traffic areas of the park, but it was still fairly tasty. I heard a whine and felt something nudge my knee, lowering my sandwich to find a dog, a young black lab with an empty leash trailing from its collar giving me the sad eyes and snuffling pitifully.

I had no choice but to give it some of my sandwich and pet it. "Aw, hey buddy, you hungry?" And also coo. "There you go, eat it up. Who let go of you, huh?" I took a bite out of my sandwich before feeding the rest to the adorable little fella, stroking his head and rubbing his ears as he ate. "Who's a good boy? You're a good boy, that's right…" I leaned over and checked, then corrected myself, "Who's a good girl? Look at how soft and shiny your fur is! You get a lot of love, dontcha? Dontcha!"

She nudged the empty wrapper aside and licked at my fingers, panting happily as I gleefully decimated my manliness rating for some puppy love. She sniffed my face before licking my nose, making me recoil in surprise before I chuckled.

"You're a sweet girl, aren't you? I'll help you find your owner, sweetie, they're probably missing you…" I checked the collar but found no name or even a tag. "Huh. Hopefully they're still around-"

The dog went ramrod stiff as two people, arguing heatedly, came down the path. Then she bolted like a bat out of hell before I could even grab the leash.

"…Dog-gone-it," I muttered, before slapping myself and pulling my mask up, turning to face the couple. "Hey guys, is there a problem?"

They turned to me and blanched. One was a rather plain-lookin' dude and the other was a plain if somewhat pretty girl, though the fear faded as they saw the symbol on my chest. "Oh, a Cape huh?" The guy sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Sorry, thought you might've been one of those Rogues or something. Uh, no, there's no problem."

"Yes there is!" The girl interjected, giving him a dark look before smiling slightly at me. "We were heading to Giacci's to pick up a gift for my sister, she's getting married. But this idiot-" She shoved him and he nearly stumbled into a trashcan, "-said 'oh hey, I know a shortcut through the park!' and now we're lost!"

"Wow," I mumbled to myself, scratching my cheek, "Well, Giacci's is about four block away from the east side of the park, which is about a ten minute walk that way," I jerked a thumb over my shoulder at the path.

"See? I told we were on the right path!" The woman crowed, shoving the the man again. "Thanks for the help, super kid."

"No problem, have a nice-" My comm. crackled and I opened the channel, Cortana's voice speaking into my ear.

" _Armed robbery in progress close by,"_ she said quickly, a small picture forming in the corner of my HUD. It showed one man pointing a shotgun at what looked to be the manager while a teller lay on the floor, unconscious, while two more men with shotguns smashed the glass cases and scooped up the multitudes of jewelry inside. The camera view pulled back and I could see the name of the store-Giacci's. " _Both Armsmaster and Militia are too far away to intervene."_

"On it," I muttered, before turning to the couple. "Don't go to Giacci's right now. Save it for another day. Now I must go, my people need me." And I sped off, wreathed in neon.

It didn't take me long to get to the scene of the crime in progress, and I hid myself from view while I pulled the camera back up. I couldn't go in from the front, they'd see me coming and might've blasted the manager. At the same time, I needed to be in there before too long in case things went bad. My eyes fell on the neighboring store, an electronics place with a stack of TVs in the window. "That'll do."

Creeping around to the store front, I held my hand out and drew the Video energy into my body. A stream of blue pixels flew from the screens and sank into my body, sending a warm static shiver crawling comfortably over my skin. I dashed forward, the buzzing of hard-light wings rumbling against my back as I darted up to the top of the building and landed quietly. " _Why do all your movement abilities have to scare the shit out of me?"_ Cortana sighed.

"Because it's fun," I muttered, peering over the edge of the roof into the back alley were a car sat. The back door of the shop was cracked open, were a fourth was keeping a lookout. Crawling down the side of the building until I was just above the doorway, I fired off a bit of web against a nearby dumpster, the loud clang echoing down the alley.

The door creaked as the lookout jumped, peering out anxiously. "What the…?" I dropped down behind him and spun him around before covering his mouth in web, kicking him into the getaway car and webbing him to it. The irony was delicious.

Flexing my power, I shrouded myself and snuck into the store proper. "Hurry the hell up!" The one holding up the manager shouted.

Invisibly, I crept up on him and examined the situation once more. Obviously, the hold-up bandit would need to be taken down first, then the other two. The only real problem was that he had his finger on the trigger and the safety off, which meant any big surprise would be fatal for the manager…then I looked at his gun again, and had an idea.

I reached over and turned the safety on.

He noticed the click, taking his eyes off the manager to look at his shotgun. Then I grabbed it by the barrel and drove it up into his nose with a crack. As he stumbled back, I ducked and swept his feet out from under him, throwing my hand up to summon a trio of glowing blue swords that pierced into the ground around him, pinning his hands and neck in place.

The other two heard the commotion and as they spun around, I shot a pair of web lines and yanked the guns out of their hands, throwing them down and webbing them to the floor. I crossed my arms and fired another pair of lines, these ones attaching to their chests. I pulled and threw myself into a flip, directing all my momentum into the lines as I threw my arms out.

The two robbers on opposite sides of the room sped towards each other and met met in the center, heads cracking together before they collapsed senselessly. I secured them to the floor, then relaxed and walked over to the teller, kneeling next to him and examining the blood running from his temple. He'd be fine, just a large bruise and a minor concussion. I switched games and wiggled my fingers mysteriously, muttering under my breath and watching as the beginnings of a bruise faded as he groaned quietly.

"You alright?" I turned to the manager, who had stumbled back against the wall and was clutching his chest, breathing hard.

"Yeah…yeah, I'm fine, just a little…" He drew a handkerchief from his pocket and scrubbed his sweaty face. "Thank you, Game Master. I thought I was gonna die…"

"Just doin' my job," I replied with a thumbs-up, the other hand rising to activate my comms. "Game Master reporting in. The criminals have been apprehended and the civilians are safe."

I couldn't help but find it odd, though. My second Daylight Patrol, a time most notorious for being boring as all hell and usually used for light punishments, and this was the second time in a row something had happened. Something was up, but for the life of me I couldn't think of _what._

…

Nothing much happened after that. I stuck around to make my report to the police, bought another sandwich then went back on patrol. In the three hours I had left, I stopped two muggings and one purse-snatcher, and one lady who had taken a bat to her cheating boyfriend's car. I may have waited a minute to let her get a few more hits in, but entirely for the purpose of letting her tire herself out, I swear.

And then my second Daylight patrol was done and I had a test to take. Sarah drove me to the DMV, where I took a written test, which was easy, and drove around a tester for a few blocks, which was also easy. But then came the fun part.

The Rapid Response and Rescue test, which would mean that I could be trusted to handle vehicles carrying personnel while avoiding obstacles during an emergency. For that, I accessed Burnout: Paradise.

Now, there aren't any 'characters' in Burnout, per se, so my perspective switched to that of the van. But I was still able to feel the wheel under in my hands, the pedal against my foot and the humming of the idling engines in my butt cheeks.

It was fuckin' weird, is what I'm saying.

"The test is to make it from the end of the road to the other and back again in the time allotted while avoiding obstacles and maintaining a decent speed," the tester, a thin man with glasses who seemed to suck the fun out of the air with his mere presence, declared, adjusting his glasses with the end of his pen. "Points will be deducted for losing speed and hitting obstacles."

"So…go as fast as possible, as neat as possible?" I asked, trying to look at him while I was still the van…what does that even _mean_? I was driving the van, but at the same time I could control it with just a thought, like it was my body…

Nevermind.

"…Yes, that is a fair, if ineloquent summation," he replied stiffly. "The test will begin in three, two…one. Be _gin-!"_

There's something I should reiterate. I love Shooters. I love RPGs (certain kinds, anyway). Sometimes I even tolerate RTSs. There are a lot of types of games that I love.

The Burnout series is the only series of Racing games that I can state, with full assurance, that I have _mastered._

So, before he'd even gotten the first syllable out, I'd slammed my foot on the gas and we rocketed forward. I resisted the urge to hit the boost and whoop, twisting the wheel as we came up on a cardboard cutout of a flipped car. The taillights nearly brushed it as we sped past, the back of the van dragging just as I wanted. Throwing the weight around with expert flicks of the wheel and taps on the brakes, we danced through the obstacles, drifting around the curve of the track so hard that the van almost went sideways.

Peeling out of the drift, I skidded to a stop by the rescuees, a pair of life-sized dolls the assistants loaded into the back. Once they were secured, I hit it again and raced off, an odd keening noise emanating from the van that only went higher as a 'tree' collapsed in front of us and I tapped the brakes, sending us into a long, curling drift.

Giving the wheel a little twirl, I neatly spun the van into the drop off zone and parked. Dismissing Burnout, I shook my head as my view came back to my eyes. "So, how'd I do?"

The tester had pressed himself against the car door so hard it looked like he was halfway to fusing himself to it, his face a pasty white. Shakily, he brought up a stopwatch and stopped it with a click. "P…pass!" He wheezed, nearly slumping into a puddle of distressed ooze.

"Can I try again? I think I can go faster this time," I asked hopefully, and it took every ounce of self-control I had to not burst out laughing at the look of pure horror on his face.

…

After I passed my tests and was told my licenses (for ground vehicles, anyway, my pilots license would require a trip out of town) would be mailed to me in a week, I decided to walk home. It wasn't that far, only a few miles, and I wanted to talk to Cortana.

"So I was thinking, I need a better way to handle guns," I said, holding my phone to my ear. "Webs worked fine today, but they won't always. I'm trying to think of something like a… _dart_ of some kind, but anything beyond that escapes me." Maybe being Peter would help with that?

"Hmm," she hummed thoughtfully, "Perhaps something with magnets? It hits, activates, locks the gun in place and then they can't use it. Except as a club, I guess."

"What if I hit the gun in front of the firing pin? That would lock it down, but it would still fire, and I don't think there are any electromagnets strong enough to stop a bullet," I paused in thought, "Not any that can fit in a dart, anyway."

"True," Cortana mumbled, "What about a…dart that releases a short bursts of conflicting magnetic waves that shake the gun apart?" Her tone shifted to that of her 'I have an idea!' phase.

"As long as the vibration doesn't ignite the powder, I think that could work," I nodded in agreement, waving off the bus that had begun to slow down. "We could make them small enough to be fired from my web-shooters, maybe integrate a small launcher of some sort into the gauntlets. Might even be able to use it for like, sleep darts and shit."

"Excellent!" I could almost hear the smile in her voice and imagine her excited bounce. "I'll start compiling information on a design and run simulations!"

The connection closed and I laughed to myself as I stowed my phone. That was one of the things I loved about Cortana, the sheer delighted energy she exuded like an aura as she came up with new technology and created the designs for it.

That and all the other reasons, obviously.

I heard the rapid padding of feet on concrete followed by a muffled curse and I spun around just in time to catch a dog jumping at my legs. I planted myself but still stumbled back as a relatively small body slammed into my chest and a wet tongue licked at my face. Gently pushing it away and wiping my eyes, I blinked and found myself nose-to-nose with the black lab I'd met in the park.

"Hey sweet girl!" I greeted her excitedly, dropping to a knee to pet her enthusiastically, once more forfeiting all my man cred. Not that I had any left. "Did you run away again? You're a smart girl, yes you are, yes you are!" Or have any now.

She barked affirmatively and hopped, putting her paws on my shoulders and getting in a prime position to lay another series of messy kisses on my face.

I heard a sharp whistle, followed by an annoyed growl as a girl about my age stomped up, a trail of obedient dogs following the leashes grasped in her hand. Glancing up, I saw the face of a girl who could headbutt a brick wall into submission, with rough, short cut blonde hair and a square jaw-well, square features, really-her brows furrowed as she glared at the dog I was petting.

Then she looked up and met my eyes.

It seemed like an angry fire blazed to life as I looked at her, her lips pulling back in a snarl, exposing teeth that should've seen a brush more often. The hair on the back of my neck prickled as I stared her down, something telling me that this girl would have no problems telling her dogs to maul me if I broke eye contact first. Or even do it herself.

Slowly stroking the dog's ears, I continued to stare at her, feeling an eyebrow arch as her fists clenched hard enough that her knuckles cracked audibly and the dogs about her feet began to growl lowly. But still, I looked into her eyes steadily.

It seemed like our staring contest lasted for hours before the fire in her eyes died and she glanced away, her whole form slumping in something that wasn't quite dejection. More like resignation, actually. "Is this your dog?" I asked, still scratching said dog's neck. It was a question with an obvious answer, I know, but I had to break the ice somehow. Asking 'what the hell was the staring about?' probably wouldn't have worked.

"Yeah," she muttered, absently reaching down to scratch one of her dogs behind the ear, all of them having settled down after my…victory, if you could call it that.

"This is the second time she's escaped you, huh? I met her at the downtown park earlier today," I told her, taking the loose leash and offering it to her. "Well it was… _nice_ to meet you. Hope you have a good day." I thought about offering my hand to shake, but the same odd prickling told me it would be a bad idea. Not a harmful one, per se, just generally of the badness.

"Thanks," the girl mumbled, still sullenly refusing to look at me. I think she was actually pouting, which was oddly adorable.

I knelt by the dog one more time and gave her a few good scratches. "Be good, okay sweet girl? Hopefully, I'll see you again." And I was very much reminded of how much I wanted a dog, but the fact of the matter is, neither I nor Cecilly were home often enough to justify keeping a dog, to my despair. But I decided to make a few visits to the animal shelters around the city and check up on the animals. Maybe I could find one that would fit us perfectly?

The girl clicked her tongue and the dogs began to trot along. She glanced up briefly and met my eyes again, but turned away quickly and hurried off.

…Well. That was fuckin' weird.

…

 _ **Later That Night…**_

…

"Have you completed the _homework_ I've assigned you?" she asked as he stepped into the barely-lit room, the deep-blue hooded robe swishing gently as he walked. An amulet of gold carrying a token in the shape of a right-handed gauntlet hung from his neck, the cloth of his robe and the light leather armor underneath glinting strangely in the darkness.

"In a sense," he replied, fingering the amulet, a simple silver ring set with a sapphire shining briefly. "The _homework_ you assigned was a bit limited in scope, so I looked for the parent source."

"Oh?" She would allow it. He hadn't been under orders, and his initiative would be appreciated…especially if it worked. "And you're sure your abilities will work?"

"I am."

"Then-" She strained slightly to push herself up, recovering quickly and leading him from the room with surprisingly swift and unsurprisingly sure stride. "-You won't mind putting them to the test."

He followed along silently, his booted feet making no sound but somehow adding to the clack of her sensible heels as they struck tile. He glanced at the plaque next to the door and grimaced behind his mask, rolling his shoulders and steeling himself.

 _Emergency Room 1-A._

Inside was chaos. Doctors and nurses scrambled to keep the ravaged body of a man breathing while others worked to remove the shards of glass and metal scraps that pierced his flesh. A hastily-wrapped tourniquet slowly dripped red from the stump of what had once been a leg, the exposed entrails in the man's stomach glistening wetly in the sharp, clinical lights of the operating room.

"Step back," she said, her presence filling the room. Several nurses and doctors shied away immediately, recognizing her and desiring no conflict with the woman. One doctor, wrist-deep in the man's chest-cavity, shot her a disbelieving look and opened his mouth to protest. "Step. Back."

The doctor's hands squelched quietly as he withdrew them and stepped away, fingers worrying at one another.

Then Saul stepped forward and raised his hand, a soothing gold light emanating from his cupped palm, his jaw working soundlessly behind his mask. Then he flexed his fingers and pushed the light forward.

The man on the table began to breathe easier. Glass and metal clinked as it was forced from his body, flesh and bone knitting together seamlessly. The tourniquet bulged before ripping, a shard of bone emerging, growing until it was a skeletal foot, followed by nerves tracing the bone before muscles threaded together and skin rolled over top.

The doctors and the nurses stared. Where once the ravaged, dismembered, dying body of a man once lay, was a whole one. The skin, once torn, was shiny and pink, and he slept on with no worries or pain.

"Mm," Piggot hummed noncommittally, turning on her heel to leave, "Tell no one," she casually shot over her shoulder.

Saul shrugged and followed her.

For the next hour, she took him to every operating room in the hospital, to all the patients on the verge of death, and watched as he healed them. "One more test," she declared, leading him to a ward full of sleeping people, some missing limbs, more swathed in bandages. "All of them."

"This will be my last one," Saul stated, breathing heavily, "I can only cast so many spells in a day." That being said, he brought his hands up and cupped them as if trying to gather water that only he could see. Light pooled in his palms, lighting up the darkened ward with a miniature sun. He held it, hands visibly shaking as sweat gathered on his forehead before he threw his arms up and released the light with a shout. " _MASS HEAL!"_

A wave of soothing light burst forth, washing over the ward even as the patients woke up. There were gasps as limbs regrew, injuries faded and stitches and IVs popped out.

Piggot sighed contently as her organs shifted and regrew. While she wouldn't miss it, dialysis _had_ given her time to relax and read something other than complaints and reports. "Remember," she warned the panting Ward as he doubled over, hands on his knees, "Unless absolutely necessary, never divulge the true scope of these abilities."

"Yeah," he exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck tiredly. "I know. As it is, I'm not looking forward to the attention I'll get from this."

"That's why _you_ won't be getting it," she replied, turning to leave once more, an energy she hadn't known she was missing filling her body. "As far as the people here and the world at large is concerned, a mysterious, anonymous Rogue is responsible for these miracles. And it'll stay that way until the time is right."

"Very well," Saul nodded.

"Good work tonight, Mr. Dewitt. Don't be late for Console duty tomorrow."

…

…

…

…

 **A/N: So, care to guess who's back and writing for this story? Spoiler alert, it's me.**

 **So, funny thing; after I published the massive chapter two for An Empire of Dragons, I immediately started working on this and it all just came spilling out. A lot more than I intended, actually. This chapter was supposed to cover the three remaining Daylight Patrols entirely, but Taylor and Cortana and all that just got away from me. So now the next chapter will cover the last two, and the story moves ahead.**

 **Also, I swear despite what it looks like, Taylor and Saul won't be a thing for a long while. I'm taking my time here.**

 **Side note, if you haven't read An Empire of Dragons yet, you totally should, and not just because I slaved away at that thirty-thousand word monstrosity for months…but also because Skyrim. And Saul. And combat, and ladies and magic and…** _ **Skyrim.**_

 **Austin: And the sex dungeons.**

 **(There aren't any)**

 **Austin: Aww!**

 **So, you got to meet a few more people, see some more stuff like Video powers, a cute doggo, the beginnings of new gadget, a run-in with a** _ **totally unknown girl**_ _*cough*_ Bitch* _fake cough*_ **and some driving. Honestly, looking through it, I need to work on my driving writing some more. It's just that driving, especially stunt driving is so kinetic that a text-based medium such as this makes it hard to bring across, but I'll strive to get better at it.**

 **I ain't no bitch.**

 **Big thanks, as always, to NorthSouthGorem, AJR333 and Dairegh for editing and talking and idea-bouncing, but no thanks for all the distracting and shit. Check out their work and give them a shout from your ol' pal Saul!**

 **Seriously, please do that, they talk to me about it and I laugh at them.**

 **NS: Like you don't also talk about your reviewers.**

 **I believe the term is called 'smugly bragging' about my reviewers.**

 **Austin: *** _snorts_ *** Right...**

 **Thanks for reading this work by a big jerk who cannot, in fact, twerk. If you like what you read, why not follow, and leave a review? I know I appreciate it, and I'm sure you do too!**

… **somehow.**

 **Stay Awesome.**

 **~Soleneus**

 **P.S.: Speaking of my other stories, next on the docket that doesn't exist is Scoop of a Lifetime chapter six, though it'll probably be superseded by chapter ten of this story. Or Chapter three of Empire if that sneaky bitch I call the lore-master has his way.**

 **His sneaky way, obviously.**

 **But seriously, go check Empire out, chapter two is literally the longest chapter I've ever written. And speaking of writing, this chapter took me about two weeks or so to write, I've got a lot of inspiration going on here.**

 **Stay Awesome Some More.**

 **~still Soleneus**


	10. Day 3: Nothing to Report

It was still dark when my alarm went off, and although I was still tired, I hopped out of bed and hit the shower. I nearly ran into my aunt when I emerged ten minutes later, scrubbing the last of the water out of my hair with a towel.

"You're up-" She released a jaw-cracking yawn and stretched, scratching her messy hair, "-Early, sweetie. Whatcha doin'?"

"Taylor asked me to train her on how to be a hero," I replied, reaching out and trying, fruitlessly, to neaten her hair with my fingers. "Go take a shower, woman! You think you can show up to work like this?"

"But I'm huuuungry," she whined, stepping into my space and lazily throwing her arms around me. "You love me, right? You love me enough to make me food, right? …Right?"

"And I will, while you're taking a shower," I insisted, turning her around and pushing her back toward her room. "Now go!"

She complained but did as directed, leaving me to make my way to the kitchen and start on breakfast. Once I ground up the coffee beans and had the machine going, I mixed together some pancake mix, eggs and milk and started cooking some delicious, delicious pancakes. As the first batch bubbled, Cortana's avatar flickered to life, casually sitting on the rim of the batter bowl. "So, what's your plan for today? I assume you have one, at least. If not, I'm sure I can whip something up."

"I figured we could start simple," I shrugged, flipping the pancakes and nodding as the tops were a light golden brown, "I'll test the limits of her stamina with a run, see how fast she recovers, then see how her strength and reflexes compare to mine."

"How would you compare strength?"

"By summoning a motorcycle, then a car. I can pick up a motorcycle easily enough and tip a car, but actually carrying a car strains my muscles," I replied, taking a moment to flex my biceps. Nice. "And then some meditation, see if I can't block her out and vice versa. Then probably lunch."

"What about more advanced techniques, like grappling?" Cortana asked as I moved the first batch to a plate and poured the second. "Not to mention the testing grounds."

"Well, I figure when the time comes to teach her those, she'll be a Ward and have access to actual trainers," If she _did_ become a Ward. If she didn't, we'd have more problems and I would have several hard decisions to make. "I can teach her the simple stuff, condition her body, take her on an easy patrol or two and then see how she feels about it all."

"And the Protectorate is alright with that?"

"They fuckin' better be, we owe her," I sucked my teeth, the sting of Hess's betrayal still sharp. Shaking my head, I turned to lighter topics. "So, those darts we were talking about last night, have you had any more ideas?"

She threw her hands up, a rotating diagram of an odd dart-like device hovering in the air. "Behold, the Mark One Venom Dart, perfect for dis-flip your pancakes," she cut in, pointing at the skillet. I jumped a little and quickly flipped the cakes, the tops a little darker than I wanted but still fine. "-perfect for disabling firearms!"

"'Venom darts,' though," I wondered aloud, idly plating the batch and pouring another, "Why that name? They don't have anything to do with snakes, right?"

She shrugged. "Well, no. But it sounds cool, right? It's not like they called it 'Mjolnir' armor because it had anything to do with Norse mythology."

"Fair enough," I shrugged, pouring a cup of coffee for my aunt and readying her pancakes just the way she liked them; a sliced banana making up the eyes, some slices of strawberry making up the dimples, and whipped cream making the smile and the eyebrows, followed with a drizzle of maple syrup. Me? I added some sliced fruit to it and called it good. "Have you run any simulations?"

Cortana arched an eyebrow at me, perched on the lid of the syrup. "Have you _met_ me?" She asked sarcastically, "Of course I've run simulations. The results have been very positive so far, with only a few falling outside of the standard acceptable deviations. A little adjustment here and there and they'll be ready for fabrication. And don't worry, I've already got the patent ready to go."

I toasted her with my juice, a wide smile on my lips. "Cortana, once again you have proven to be the most impressive woman I've ever met." She flicked her hair and smiled smugly, the data streams on her avatar flashing quickly.

"And once again, I've been outshone by Tinkerbell," Cecilly muttered sadly as she slid into her seat and carved her first bite, "But at least I've got pancakes to soothe my injured feelings!" She shoved the bite into her mouth, chewing blissfully before she frowned. Then, she turned to me, eyes wide and glistening. "Saul…you forgot the chocolate chips!" She exclaimed mournfully, even as she poured more syrup on top of her pancakes.

"Woman…you have enough syrup on that plate to drown a small child or mildly inconvenience a whale shark, don't you give me any shit for no chocolate chips," I waved her off and focused on my breakfast, until I looked up at the clock a bit later. "Don't you have to be at work at seven?" It was six forty.

"Oh shit," she scarfed the last of her breakfast down and hurried about, grabbing her purse and briefcase then hastily throwing on her jacket while trying to comb her hair at the same time. Needless to say, she only ended up looking disheveled.

"Cecilly, just hold on a second," I grabbed her by the shoulder and spun her around, accessing the game I wanted and calling on its power. I wiggled my fingers mysteriously and her clothes straightened, her hair shone like it had just been brushed and she clean as could be, no whipped cream or syrup on her cheeks at all. "There. Have a good day."

"Thanks, I will!" She kissed my cheek before scurrying out the door, calling back, "Love you!"

I shook my head as I gathered up the dishes and set them in the sink. But before I started washing them, I had an idea. I wiggled my fingers again and they were clean, as was the sink.

Useful things, cantrips.

With that taken care of, I switched out Halo for Burnout Paradise since I doubted I would use the Chief or the armor that day, dressed, grabbed a couple of water bottles and headed out in a sensible sedan. The trip to Taylor's house was nerve-wracking, but not because I was driving without a license, but because the Boost bar was winking at me and I had to resist the urge to hit the gas and let loose the boost. Powersliding would probably get me trouble, no matter how fun it was.

Despite the temptation, I managed to make it with no incidents, even if I _did_ break the speed limit a few times. Mr. Hebert's beat-up truck was gone, so I pulled into his space and dismissed the car. My first thought was to knock on the door or ring the bell, but I was feeling a little mischievous. Instead I walked around to the back and climbed up to Taylor's window.

She was buried in a cocoon of blankets, her curly brown hair strewn haphazardly on her pillow. It was rather adorable, all told.

I rapped the window with my knuckles but she didn't react beyond rolling over and snuggling into her blanket-cocoon. And knocking again didn't even get that, either.

There was something I wanted to try, so I closed my eyes and concentrated, rooting through my mind for the connection between us. I felt a sense of quiet contentment that I knew wasn't mine and followed it best I could to a dream. Taylor dreamt she was a caterpillar, a bony, lanky one with too-wide lips and no curves to speak of, comfortably wrapped in a cocoon that would change her into a beautiful butterfly.

There was nothing I could really do to help her with her self-image, lacking as it was. I could change how I look with a decent character creator, and I still felt self-conscious most days. I wished I could've let her access it as well, but our connection didn't go that far. I had to settle with the knowledge that, after some conditioning and an adjusted diet, she'd fill out a bit. Judging from the Marvel encyclopedia, pretty much every Spider-person ended up being at the very least hot, and she had some of that in her.

But that wasn't what I was there for. Mentally reaching out, I tried to nudge her awake, but that didn't work either. And then an idea struck.

…

Taylor stiffened as her dream, comfortable and content, shifted. Suddenly, her cocoon was carried aloft by a strange, mechanical arm through a labyrinthian maze of metal struts and walls and walkways, angled oddly and the atmosphere, alien.

Then a face, translucent but the eyes, blue and green, burned into her with a sort of cold, interested detachment. Then it spoke, stuttering, pausing and inflecting oddly, like it had learned English but didn't care to sound human while it spoke. "Rise and shine, Miss Hebert, rise and… _shine._ Not that _I_ wish to im...ply that you've _been_ sleeping on…the _job._ No one _is mor_ e deserving of a…rest…and all the _eff_ ort in… _the_ world would've gone _to_ waste until…well, _let_ 's just say your… _hour_ has come…again."

The thing smiled in an odd, mechanical fashion that only made her wary. "The right girl in _the_ wrong place can make _all the differ_ ence in the world. So…wake up, Miss Hebert. Wake up and… _smell the ashes…"_

Taylor awoke with a gasp, struggling with the blankets that had wrapped around her tightly. Her valiant battle had taken her to the edge of her bed and she tumbled to the floor with a dismayed squeal.

The sound of laughter made her head turn so fast she swore her neck popped. The laughter came from Saul, outside of her window with his head resting on sill as he giggled helplessly. Throwing her blankets aside, Taylor stomped over to the window and yanked it open, the burst of cold air causing her to shiver. "You're an _asshole,_ " she hissed, poking his head through the screen. "What are you even doing here? It's…" She peeked over shoulder at the battered clock on her nightstand. _"Six-freakin'-thirty in the morning!"_

"I said you weren't gonna like me," he reminded her, still smiling. "You wanted my help, and now you're getting it. Get dressed in clothes you feel comfortable running in, then meet me outside. It's training time, Taylor."

He dropped to the ground and arched an eyebrow up at her, tapping his wrist meaningfully. Taylor watched him go and sighed tiredly, running a hand through her hair. Then, visibly steeling herself, she got dressed.

.-.-.-

I had to wait just under ten minutes for Taylor to emerge in sweat pants and a long-sleeved shirt, her hair pulled back into a ponytail. She was blinking and rubbing her eyes, but seemed more awake then she had previously. "So, whaaa-" her question was interrupted by a long yawn "-what are we doing?"

"To condition you properly, first I gotta know what you can do. So, first up, we're gonna run until you can't run anymore," she began to go pale as I outlined my plan. "Then, we'll see how flexible you are. Then we'll test your strength. And that'll be it…for today."

Taylor sighed. "This is gonna suck, isn't it?"

"Oh yes," I nodded sagely, putting a hand on her shoulder and giving it a comforting squeeze. "But it'll be worth it in the end. Now _run, Taylor, run!"_

She jumped at my shout but dutifully took off running with me easily catching up a second later. She kept pace as we turned down the street and continued, and before long we'd run half a mile.

Taylor was breathing hard and sweating, but not as bad as I thought she'd be and judging by the surprise on her face, not as bad as she thought she'd be.

By the time we passed her house the first time, she started to lag. By the time we were halfway around, she was wheezing like an old vacuum cleaner.

I turned around and ran backwards, shouting advice because sometimes, I can be an asshole. "Come on, Taylor! Push it! Remember to breathe steadily, in through the nose, out through the mouth!"

The glare she shot me would've been scary if her face wasn't red and dripping with sweat. It only intensified when I turned the corner, still running backwards.

When we reached her home, she collapsed on her lawn bonelessly, groaning painfully between hard pants. "Don't lie down, you'll get some murderously bad cramps," I told her, poking her leg with my foot and sloshing a water bottle above her. "Get back up and you can have this."

With a lot of theatrical groaning and sighing, Taylor pushed herself back up and grabbed the bottle from me, sucking down half of it in a few seconds. "How…how aren't you _tired_?" She asked between breaths.

I was lightly sweating and barely breathing hard, like I'd gone for a quick walk instead of a two mile run. "I patrol by swinging through the air and running up and across buildings. For hours at a time. Just running doesn't really do much for me anymore." In part, it was because Delsin's power was my go-to for running around the city and his character had no stamina mechanic. I was still pretty sore and tired at the end, but that faded quickly.

"Oh, right," she muttered under her breathath, wiping her forehead. "Now what?"

"Flexibility," I replied, stretching my arm over my head, "Part of our powers, physically, anyway, is that we are more flexible than your average person, almost on the level of a contortionist, but not quite. More Olympic gymnast. For example…" I smoothly dropped to the grass in a perfect split, remembering to tilt my pelvis forward so that I didn't crush my nuts. "Van Damme ain't got nothing on me."

"Jesus," Taylor muttered, eyeing me with a grimace, "And you don't feel uncomfortable…at all?"

"Not even slightly," I shook my head, before reaching my arms up to the sky, tilting back and planting them behind me and pushing, bringing my legs together and arching my back into a perfect bridge. Then I bent my elbows, curled my spine backwards and looked at her through the gap between my feet, still planted on the grass. "This, however, is _supremely_ uncomfortable."

She blinked rapidly. "…I don't wanna try that," she said faintly, unconsciously rubbing her back.

"I wish I hadn't," I grunted, slowly shifting myself back into a normal human position, rolling my neck. "Now, do a split. Slowly, and carefully you don't want to…" Before I could finish my cautioning, Taylor had knelt down, carefully directed her legs in the right directions and did a split, easy as you please.

At my arched eyebrows, she shrugged. "Once upon a time, Emma and I were going to try out for the cheer squad. I never imagined I'd make it, but I was going to do it with a friend, so…"

I grunted under my breath, scratching my temple in thought. "Well, that doesn't help. Shit. How about…tumbling, I guess? Can you do standing flips?"

"I've never tried." Taylor looked down at her lawn, frowning. "Uh, shouldn't we be doing this somewhere else? With padding, maybe?"

I gave her a dry look. "Do you _know_ anywhere like that? 'Cause I do. There's a few dojos and gyms around here, but those aren't exactly anonymous places. Speaking of, let's go inside." I gathered the water bottles and followed her inside, where she pushed the coffee table up against the couch. "That might work."

"That's what I was thinking," she muttered, scratching her nose and adjusting her glasses at the same time. "Are you sure I can do this?"

"No, but that's what we're trying to figure out," I shrugged, patting her on the shoulder. "Don't worry about it, if I see you about to land on your head, I'll catch you. And if I don't, I can fix you up."

Taylor cocked her head curiously. "You can?"

"Yep."

"How?"

"Magic," I said honestly, "There are a lot of games out there that have healing stuff. Anyway, hop to it." I grinned. "Get it?"

"Yes, it was very smart," she said flatly, before smiling. "Alright, here I go." Steeling herself, she took a deep breath and jumped in place, flopping forward awkwardly to land on her hands and knees.

"Oh, right. You said you've never done this before," I sighed, sucking my teeth. "Alright, watch me." I jumped, quick tucking my knees to my chest and throwing my head forward, executing a neat flip.

"Alright, let me try again," Taylor said, crouching slightly. Then she flipped. It was sloppy and she stumbled on the landing, but she flippin' did it. "One more time!" She flipped again, and that time, it was far neater. "I did it!"

"Nice!" I gave her high-five and a quick hug. "Now backflip!"

The long and short of it is that, after an example or two, followed by attempting it herself a few times, Taylor nailed my roughshod flexibility tests. While she wasn't quite at my level, it was definitely above human norms. After that, we moved to her garage which, despite having a few dusty boxes around the edges, was open enough to fit a truck.

"Alright, this next one we've got to be careful with," I said seriously, peering into her eyes, "If you can't handle it, _don't push it._ Just because I can heal you doesn't mean I want things to get that bad, okay?"

"Okay," Taylor nodded, an air of anxiety about her. "So…what are we doing?"

"Strength testing," I replied, summoning a Kawasaki motorcycle without further ado. "Let me show you what I mean." Crouching down, I grasped it firmly by the chassis and stood, pulling it up before pushing my arms above my head.

"Jesus…" Taylor murmured, reaching out to poke my arm, "I heard that you were strong, but seeing it is another thing…"

"This actually isn't that impressive," I said, setting the motorcycle down and dismissing it. "Japanese motorcycles are-or _were_ , I should say- usually built out of lighter stuff. Now, here's the hard part." I summoned a Ford sedan, the same one I'd driven to her house.

Reaching down, I pushed it up and grabbed the axles, breathing deep before I slowly hefted it up on my shoulders then, with a groan of effort, lifted it straight up. A drop of sweat slid down my cheek, my muscles straining as I held the car up. Then, carefully, I bent, lowered it down to the garage floor and let it rest.

Wiping my forehead and taking a deep drink from my bottle, I summoned the motorcycle again. "Now it's your turn. Remember what I said earlier." Then I stepped back and observed.

She crouched down, long pale fingers tapping the bottom as she searched for purchase. Then, having found a spot, she took a deep breath and heaved it up, only for me to push it back down. "Hey!"

"Breathe out before you lift and use your knees," I advised, letting up. "Try again."

Taylor sighed and nodded, her position proper, and lifted it once more. The look of surprise on her face was hilarious, especially when she lifted the motorcycle over her head. Her arms began to shake ten seconds into the lift, so she carefully set it down and exhaled noisily.

"Wow," she breathed, shaking out her arms, "I didn't know I could do that…"

"And now you do," I said, resting a hand on her shoulder. "Now that we know what you can do physically, you can only grow stronger from here. We've been at this for a few hours, why don't you grab a shower while I make you some lunch…or brunch or whatever."

"Oh, uh, sure," my Spider-buddy muttered, reaching up to loose her hair from its confines. "We haven't gone shopping in a bit, so…there's not much. Sorry."

"It's alright, I've made do with pretty much nothing before, don't worry about it," I gently pushed her towards the stairs. "Now go get clean."

As she disappeared into her home, I stepped into the kitchen and took stock of what was available. It wasn't much, true to Taylor's words. Four eggs, two slices of bacon, half an onion and two potatoes are what I grabbed, along with the milk and some butter. As I set about cutting and dicing, Cortana's avatar appeared on the counter, walking around the cutting board. "Data compilation is finished," she announced, poking the bacon with a foot, "And it's about what we expected."

"What's the hard data like?" I asked, setting the chopped potatoes aside and starting to fry the bacon in a pan as I measured and began to slice into the onion.

"The 'hard data' is a mess because basically none of the 'exercises' you did are classically measurable," Cortana huffed, crossing her arms and glaring up at me. "The only one that _was_ is the two-mile run. But cleaning it up and rounding, her physical abilities are at most, thirty-five percent compared to yours. The good news is that they'll grow with time and exercise. The bad news, comparatively, is that they'll never reach your level, barring some bullshit no one could see coming."

"Hm. About what we expected," I nodded in agreement, flipping the bacon and cracking the eggs, searching through the cabinets for the spices. "What do you have for dietary needs?"

"High protein, obviously, a decent amount of fat and fiber, low on carbs and-"

"What the _fuck is_ _ **this?!"**_ I cut across her reply as I found the spice cabinet. Or should I say, _the absolute DISGRACE they called a_ _ **spice cabinet!**_ "Salt, pepper and garlic powder! What. The actual. Fuck?! Where's the oregano, the basil? The onion powder, the chili powder? The _smoked paprika?_ This…this is a travesty!"

Cortana arched an eyebrow, unimpressed by my diatribe. "Can you pay attention, please? This is more important stuff, you know."

I gasped. "How can you _say_ that?!"

"As someone who's _never eaten,_ " she glowered, data streams bleeding to red.

"Excuses!"

" _Anyway_ , I have a chart made up that you can email to Taylor. The question I have, though, is how you expect them to pay for it, because…" She glanced around at the old, worn furniture and the low-quality dishes and appliances, "They aren't exactly rolling in it. And given what I know, even if they couldn't trace cash infusions back to me, they wouldn't accept charity."

I sprinkled a bit of their meager spice selection into the eggs, then removed the bacon to cool while I started frying the potatoes and onions in the grease, thinking as I did. If only there was some skill or power Taylor could use, legally, to make money, and if only I had access to a place where things could be traded, bought or sold. _OH WAIT._ "Well, you remember those ideas I had for Taylor's powers? Maybe not the pest control thing, but the honey and the silk? She could sell those."

"How, though? They'd need licenses, certifications of quality, not to mention customers," Cortana tapped her chin in thought, "Also space for beekeeping and spinning, equipment for collection, and a hundred other things."

"Those, we can handle. Perhaps we could fabricate simple frame drones based on Dragon's suits?" I stirred the potatoes and added the onions, adding a bit of butter so that the food didn't stick to the pan. "Or even smaller things like Spider-Bro. But as far as selling goes…well, it's not called the Abyssal _Store,_ is it?"

My AI Companion peered up at me curiously. "You want to sell the goods on the Auction? Hm. How would you explain where the money's coming from?"

I gave her a very flat look. "How do _you_ explain where all the money's coming from?" I paused in thought. "Also, are you _ever_ going to tell me where it comes from?"

"A fair point," she conceded with a shrug, before smiling coyly. "As for your second question…I'll give you a hint: assholes."

I paused mid-stir, the bowl of scrambled eggs in my hand. "…I don't think I want to know anymore."

Her avatar flashed red. "That's not what I meant!" She shook her head, pinching her nose in exasperation and I snickered. "I think that, in the beginning, selling the stuff on the Auction would work, but not in the long-term."

"I think it would work better in the long-term, actually," I argued back, "Who would really buy silk and honey? High-end clothing stores, maybe, a few people with a hard-on for all-natural stuff but on the Auction? Taylor makes silk and gathers honey in bulk, we sell it for a good price, take a fee as intermediaries and give them the rest. They spend it at stores, fix up their house or get a new one, buy new stuff and bam, the local economy gets a boost. Maybe we set up a few priavte sales with people, build a brand and get the name out, but that would take years before they could rake in any real cash."

"I suppose," Cortana shrugged, sitting on the edge of the counter, "I guess I just don't like the idea of relying on something like the Auction to help us."

"I can see that," I reply, stirring the eggs, potatoes and onions together as they cooked. "How're the simulations on the Venom Darts coming?"

"I sent the revised projections to Dragon for a final look over and Armsmaster approved the first fabrication," she announced proudly, "And I've already added three dozen to the loadouts of each of your Mk. II gloves. Though, they do want a demonstration of their effectiveness before you carry them in the field."

"Fair enough." I heard the water cut out and realized that it had been going the whole time and I hadn't noticed. Testing a potato, it was nice and crispy, so I plated the whole affair and set it on the table. The coffee pot was half full, though I wasn't sure if Taylor drank coffee or not. _Taylor,_ I thought, and I felt her jump in surprise, _sorry. Do you drink coffee?_

 _Yeah, a little. Just a bit of milk and sugar, thanks._ I can feel her embarrassment across the link and it takes a second to realize that she's just wrapped in a towel.

Shaking my head, I prepared her coffee and had it all set out when she came down, hair still damp. Her eyes widened in surprise at the plate of food, a light blush coloring her cheeks as she sat down and dug in. "This is great, thanks," Taylor murmured over a mouthful of bacon.

"Least I can do," I shrugged, setting my phone on the table and tapping the surface, projecting the results of our little tests into the air. "As you can see by these handy-dandy charts, based on the data we gathered in our tests, rough as they were, your abilities are about sixty percent less effective than mine. Physically, anyway, though your flexibility is more like fifty. We can test some of the other stuff later."

She set her fork down, peering at the data over her glasses. "…How'd you get all this?" She asked faintly, reaching out and waving a hand through the projection. "Is it another game thing?"

I smirked. If that wasn't a queue, I don't know what is. "In a sense. Someone was actually helping me with all this. Cortana?"

The data flashed and began to spin, whirling together into a tornado of purple, green and red that streamed down to the surface of the phone, coalescing together into a pulsing orb of data. The surface rippled and distorted, bulging outwards before it collapsed inwards and exploded. Cortana's avatar was revealed, crouching on the surface of the phone as flakes of scattered data fell around her like snow in a storm. "Hello, Taylor Hebert," she intoned smoothly, her voice stoic as she crossed her arms behind her back. "I am Cortana."

It was completely unnecessary and cool as all hell.

"…Hi," Taylor said slowly, halfway extending her hand to shake. "So…you're a…computer?"

"She's an AI," I replied helpfully, "The 'A' stands for Artificial, and the 'I' stands for Intelligence."

"I know what AI means," she said faintly, fingering her fork awkwardly. "So…nice to meet you?"

"Indeed," Cortana replied solemnly, and then they locked gazes. And then they stared at each other for a minute straight.

There was something going on there, but I didn't know what.

"... Anyway," I cut through the staring contest, "She'll help us with figuring out the more technical data of your abilities, and how to optimize your potential. Speaking of, once you're done, it's time to get to the last part of our little training montage."

Taylor shoveled a mouthful of egg and potato into her mouth. "Which is what?" She asked…I think.

"Just join me in the living room when you're done," I stood from the table and took my phone, settling on the carpet with my legs crossed. "What was that, Cortana?"

"Showing off," she answers bluntly. "I'm going to check on the fabrication and get a demonstration together. I'm here if you need me."

Her avatar faded and I closed my eyes, calming my thoughts. A few minutes later, Taylor shuffled over and sat in front of me, playing with the hem of her pant legs.

"We're going to try and close the link between us, or at least block it off," I said, opening eyes. "When you first tried to use your bug controlling powers, I felt them, I almost followed along with them. So, _try to make me do something and I'll resist. And we'll work from there, okay?_

 _Alright, I'll try,_ she nodded, taking a deep breath. _Slap yourself in the face._

My hand didn't even twitch. _With a little more force, please._

Taylor squinched her eyes shut, putting her fingers against her temples in concentration. _SLAP YOURSELF._

My arm jumped up like I'd been shocked, but it flopped back down against my leg before getting near my face. A sharp pain pulsed in my head, but nothing beyond that. _Huh. I seem to be naturally resistant to the controlling aspect. Alright, Taylor, try as hard as you can this time._

Her eyes snapped open, concerned hazel peering into my blue. _Are you sure?_ She asked worriedly. _I don't want to hurt you._

 _Don't worry, I can take it,_ I reassured her, reaching out to squeeze her knee. _We're testing the limit, and some pain is pretty ordinary. Go ahead, push it._

 _Alright, you asked for it,_ Taylor sighed, putting her fingers to her temples again.

 _What's with the-this thing?_ I asked, mimicking her pose.

She blushed hotly, but didn't drop it. _It helps me concentrate, okay?_ She shot back. _Now…_ _ **SLAP YOURSELF!**_

It was as if my Spider Sense went haywire. One part was screaming at me to duck while the other commanded me to stay still because nothing was wrong, idiot. I threw my head back as my hand snapped up with a speed fit to take my nose off, almost flipping backwards from the force of my dodge and instead flopping awkwardly on the carpet as pain erupted from behind my eyes. I groaned, clutching my head and squeezing my eyes shut.

"S-Saul?" A tentative voice called softly, a cool, slim hand gently pressing against my cheek. "Are you alright?"

"Ow," I blinked, my vision blurring slightly. "That was some…pretty out-of-the-ordinary pain. Give me a minute, alright?" It felt as if I had a nail driven into my brain, but something about it made me wonder. I'd felt like that before, but when?

 _ **Feel better**_ _, please,_ Taylor's thoughts echoed in my head and despite the pain that caused, my head actually hurt a bit less afterwards. _Did that help?_

 _A little, yeah, but if it's alright with you, I'm just going to lie here for a bit,_ I replied, closing my eyes as the light spilling from the window felt like needles in my retinas. _Well, now we know you_ can _control my body, but my mind rejects the command and it just ends up making me hurt. Progress._

 _I guess,_ she murmured, her hand leaving my cheek. _So, I guess we're done for the day?_

 _Not entirely, we can still attempt the last thing,_ I said, shifting a bit to get more comfortable. _Here's the idea: I'll start thinking of a song, and you try to block it out or dampen it. Ready?_

 _Ready._

… _Ridin' down the highway…goin' to show…stop in all the by-ways…playin' rock'n'roll!_

…

She didn't have much success.

…

After that, I recovered and left for home, where Sarah picked me up and took me to HQ and I settled in for another night of Console duty. There was still a light throbbing behind my eyeballs, and staring at a bunch of screens for hours on end didn't exactly help, but what was I gonna do, _not_ do my duty? It also didn't help that it was a quiet night, crime wise. The first time I sat up from my slumping in the chair came from an alert; someone had robbed a drug store and had taken off; the Ward closest to intervene was Vista.

"Vista, there's a robber running a down 6th and Berry. You're the closest."

 _"On it, Console!"_ She replied, the view from her visor-mounted camera appearing to glitch every time she used her power to bend space to cross the distance between buildings. Then she was on the ground, shooting forward with every step before she stopped at the mouth of an alley, hand raised at the criminal barreling towards her. _"Stop right there! You're under arrest!"_

The robber skidded to a stop, eyes peering at her over the bandanna serving as a crude mask. Then he started laughing. " _Pffft-bahaha! A little kid?! Aren't you up past your bedtime?"_ He laughed harder, actually slapping his knee.

The view warped as Vista stepped up next to him, kicked the back of his knee then jumped on his back, drawing then stabbing a tranquilizer dart into his neck. He flailed, tossing his loot in the air before collapsing on his face with a thud. " _Console, this is Vista. Perpetrator apprehended, stolen goods reacquired, dropping a pick-up beacon and returning the goods."_ She did a short victory dance and set off towards the store with an adorable skip in her step.

"Good work, Vista, Console out," I replied, sitting back in my chair and watching her screen with a smile on my face. And then I couldn't contain it any longer. "Oh my _god_ , she's so fucking _cute,_ how do you stand it?!" I asked Dean incredulously, waving at the screen and he turned wide eyes on me, "I just wanna pinch her cheeks, hug the stuffing out of her, then sit her on my lap, feed her cookies and watch Disney movies! God, she is just _adorable._ "

Dean shook his head, paling slightly, his grey eyes panicked behind his glasses.

"Oh, I'm sorry, is that inappropriate?" I scratched my cheek, sighing loudly, "I just…man, how does someone get that cute? It feels like it should be illegal…"

My Console buddy shook his head rapidly, gesturing at the panel before me, which had a light blinking on it. Because it was connected. To Vista's radio. And it was still on.

Whoops.

I peeked at the screen and she had stopped, visibly shaking. I cleared my throat and leaned in, hesitating for a second before deciding to go with the truth. "I meant every fuckin' word." Dean slapped his hand against his face, "But I _am_ sorry you had to hear that, my apologies. Console out."

" _Saul-!"_ Vista growled before I closed the channel.

"She might _actually_ kill you," Dean noted distantly, shaking his head. "You know that, right?"

"I doubt it, I'm too pretty to die," I replied, checking my phone. "Oh hey, it's just about dinner time. Do you know what you want? I think it's pizza night."

"Do they have Hawaiian?"

"They damn well better."

"Then I'll take some of that. And some jasmine tea, if they have it."

And that's partially why I like Dean. The man's a damn gentleman, he knows when to talk and when to simply let the silence sit, and he likes tea and Hawaiian pizza. He's an all around cool guy, even if he _is_ dating one of my biggest crushes, but I can't hate the man for that. What can I say, he's got good taste.

As I walked down the hall towards the Mess, I couldn't help but think back to what had just occurred. Not the part where I accidentally let slip how completely adorable I think Vista is to the girl herself, but the part where she took down the criminal. Now, she handled it about as neatly as possible…but what if she hadn't? What if that random guy had a power that let him nullify her space bending? What could she have done?

Not much, honestly. He was a grown man, she was twelve. Trained or not, he had a gun and probably a hundred and fifty pounds on her. Even then, that advantage could've been reversed if she had a weapon of some sort, and even one of the Venom Darts would've helped. Which got me thinking; there are many dangers to a Hero on the streets, including other Supers. So why don't we have weapons?

Those thoughts rattled in my head as I gathered slices of Hawaiian for us in the Mess, and they all came to a stop when I noticed Armsmaster sitting near the end of a table, halberd leaning nearby, eating a slice of supreme with a fork and knife like a fuckin' creep. "Hey, Armsmaster," I called, setting the plates down and sitting across from him. He glanced up at me with a frown, helmet still on as he delicately wiped his mouth with a napkin. Lucky bastard had his head from the nose up covered. No one told me having a mask would make it hard to eat. "Why don't we have standardised weapon training?"

"Because weapons are dangerous," he said flatly, spearing a slice of pizza and sticking it in his mouth. So creepy.

"I don't mean guns, I'm talking about staves, half-staves, sticks or even nunchucks. Like, padded ones," I gestured at his halberd, "You had to have a basic knowledge of staves to use that, right?"

"That was my own decision," Armsmaster answered, sipping a glass of water, "I decided I should be more versatile in my approach, though weight was also a factor, hence a halberd instead of a poleaxe. There are certain freedoms when it comes to a Hero's personal kit, and that is one of them."

I guess that answered my question, but not satisfactorily. "So, the resources you used to learn, are those public or private…?"

Armsmaster did something with his mouth. It might've been a brief smile. It might've been a grimace. Or maybe he had realized just how wrong eating pizza with a fork was.

So creepy.

.-.-.-

He was standing by his locker when she found him, fiddling with his gloves as he prepared it for the next mornings' Daylight patrol, but she didn't care. He heard her stomping up, looked at her over his shoulder, and smiled. "Hey, Vista, good work tonight."

She ignored the praise and stepped into his personal space, finger pointing up into his face. "You!" She growled, also trying to ignore the fact that she had to stand on her tiptoes just to bring her fingertip close to his nose. "You-you're a jerk!"

He scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. "I wasn't trying to distract you, you know. I am sorry about that."

"Not that! You…you called me _adorable!"_ Vista spat the last word as if it were the worst insult.

"You are," Saul said simply, reaching out to brush a bit of dirt off of her shoulder, "Did you trip?"

"No! I'm a hero, dammit!" She flushed angrily because she had, in fact, tripped. "I'm not some little kid!"

He gave a singularly unimpressed look, an eyebrow arching. "You realize that you're twelve, right? Missy?" He poked her shoulder. "Right?"

Vista stepped back, slapping at his hand. "So? That doesn't change the fact I'm not some little girl who needs some big adults to hold my hand! I'm strong, I have powers, and I don't need anyone looking down on me just 'cause I'm young!" She pointed her finger in his face again. "And I _most certainly_ am not cute, or adorable or-or huggable or cuddleable or whatever!"

He frowned at her, sitting down on the bench to look at her eye-to-eye. "You think I look down on you just because I think you're cute?" He paused. "And not just because I'm taller?" Then he frowned again. "Are you dumb or have you just forgotten that, not even two days ago, I said you were a hero to me?"

Vista crossed her arms with a huff, turning her face away from him. "…I remember…but you were lying!" She declared, once more pointing a finger in his face. She seemed very fond of the gesture, and he could almost see the exclamation ' _OBJECTION!'_ appear in the air every time she did it.

"About you being at the top, yeah," he shrugged unconcernedly, "My aunt will always be my number one hero no matter what, but I wasn't lying when I said you were a hero to me, Missy. You inspire me."

"And now you're lying again," Missy growled under her breath, spinning around to march out of the room, only for a large hand to gently but firmly grasp her elbow, pulling her back around. She opened her mouth to snap at him when she saw his eyes and froze.

She knew they were blue, she'd seen them almost everyday for the past few months. But in that moment, she _saw_ just how blue they were, like ice back-lit by cyan, his gaze pinning her in place with the weight of his seriousness.

"I'm not lying, Missy," he said calmly, his grasp loosening so that his fingers were barely touching her wrist, "Most people, given power, tend to abuse it the first chance they get, as the frankly ridiculous amount of Villains we have here shows. Hell, the first thing I used my powers for was getting revenge," Saul snorted, shaking his head slightly. "And it's especially worse when people of a _younger persuasion_ get power. But you? You didn't fall into that trap, Missy. You saw the world around you and you said, 'I want to fix it. I want to be a Hero.' And then you _did_. One of the youngest Wards ever, not even a teenager, but still more responsible than most adults."

She gulped audibly, an uncomfortable burning behind her eyes and in her chest, her arms dropping. Saul took her hands gently, gaze still locked on hers. "You are _amazing_ , Missy. And a true Hero, very worthy of one of my super-coveted Top Ten List spots," he smiled softly as she giggled, "And I am _beyond_ ecstatic to be here and see what you new heights you could reach."

Missy sniffled, withdrawing a hand to wipe at her cheeks before just as quickly grabbing him again. "I'm not _that_ wonderful, you know," she admitted, sitting next to him on the bench, surreptitiously checking for eavesdroppers, "One of the first things I did was steal cookies from on top of the fridge."

He drew back, giving her a comically surprised look. "…Everything I know is a lie," he muttered faintly, grinning as she huffed and smacked his arm. "But still, Missy, I'm proud to know you and be your comrade. You should also know that all of the things I just said only make you more attract-no, no, wrong word," Saul shooks his head, scrunching his brow in thought, "Adorable. That's what I meant to say."

She looked away, her cheeks suddenly burning. "B-but cute things are…y'know, soft and…cuddly and not at all kick-ass," she muttered, scratching her jaw sheepishly, though her hand was still holding his. "I just…I want to be taken seriously. I want to be _respected_. Cute things aren't."

"I think you've got a very narrow view of what cute can be," Saul said, gently tugging her chin to face him once more. "It's entirely possible to be absolutely adorable _and_ a complete badass, y'know. Just look at me!"

Missy opened her mouth to speak, then paused, tilting her head curiously. She couldn't tell if he was being serious or not.

I was being completely serious.

"The point is, Missy, that everything I just said about you, only makes me like you more," he continued after a few seconds. "I respect you, you inspire me, and you are absolutely huggable."

She looked down and away, somewhat overwhelmed by the sincerity of his words. Then she tugged her hand away and turned, crossing her arms. "…I'm still mad at you," she grumbled, and neither believed that for an instant.

"Will a hug make you feel better?" He asked, poking her arm, "You wanna hug, Missy?"

"…No."

He poked her again. "You sure?"

"…No…"

Saul opened his arms. "Then bring it in, cute thing."

She turned and threw her arms around him, burying her face in his chest. Then she withdrew, because the edges of her visor dug uncomfortably into the bridge of her nose and her cheeks. Pulling it off and setting it aside, she embraced him again, sighing as his arms, warm and comfortable, wrapped around her, bringing with them a sense of safety like a favored blanket.

"You wanna spar later? Maybe punch me a few times, make you less inclined to be mad at me?" He asked, one hand gently rubbing slow circles between her shoulder blades.

"Okay," she mumbled into his chest, his heart steadily drumming against her ear.

"…Then maybe come over and watch movies with me and my aunt?" He added leadingly. "We can point and laugh when she cries at the sad parts."

"…Okay…"

.-.-.-

My night was pretty much over; Console duty was done, thank fuck, and I'd made Missy not so mad anymore, so I was ready to head home and hit the hay…hellishly hard. But I had one more stop.

It was an empty room; empty of furniture, anyway, with bare concrete walls and floors. Armsmaster, Miss Militia and Director Piggot all stood near a pair of training dummies, each holding an empty assault rifle, making small talk over the case the Tinker was holding out. They looked up as I entered, their gazes making me just a tad uncomfortable as I crossed the room.

"Explain to me what you want to demonstrate," Piggot ordered, her eyes boring into me, "And quickly. I have something important to get to."

"Alright, well," I held out my hand and Armsmaster handed me the case, which I flipped open to reveal a row of darts about the size of a screw. The tip narrowed to a point and had four sides, a diamond-shaped wedge to slip between lines in metal, and the top glowed a dull blue. "The working name is 'Venom Darts,' and they're designed to remove guns from the equation during any sort of hero work. They work by being launched or even thrown with sufficient velocity into a firearm, where upon activation it releases a short series of conflicting magnetic waves, which shakes the gun apart."

Cortana's avatar flickered to life, standing on my shoulder as did Dragon's face in-between us, which was a bit weird. It was just a pixelated face hovering in thin air, somehow looking at everyone while also facing straight ahead. "The technical details are included in the data packet that was sent to you," she added, crossing her arms proudly, "As it stands, these should decrease gun-related injuries to Capes by at least thirty percent, if not more."

The Director hummed noncommittally, waving a hand at the dummies. "A demonstration, then."

Picking a dart from the case, I held it between my thumb and middle finger before flicking it at the closest dummy. The dart pierced into the rifle right underneath the ejection port with quiet _shing._ Then the light snapped on, an audible crackle emanating as the weapon shuddered violently before it burst apart with a metallic _pop_.

Piggot hummed again, stroking her chin in thought. "'Venom Darts,' you say? Why that name?"

"It's intimidating," Cortana shrugged. "Why, do you have a better idea?"

"Maybe," said Miss Militia interjected, "Can you demonstrate again?"

I nodded, picked up another and threw it at the second dummy. _Shing_. It pierced the metal. _Snap._ It activated. _Crackle_. It went to work. _Pop._ The gun burst into pieces.

Hold on a second…

"Krispies," I said aloud, then jumped slightly as I looked at the heroine standing next to me, because she said the exact same thing.

" _Krispies?"_ Cortana shouted waving her arms overdramatically, offended and outraged, "You want to change the name-the _kickass_ name-of 'Venom Darts' to…to _Krispies?!_ Why?!"

"Well," Miss Militia began, gesturing to the broken weapons, "The noises it makes, it snaps-"

"-Crackles-" I added, then shrugged as my AI Companion turned a betrayed look on me.

"-And pops," the heroine finished, "'Just listen for the snap, crackle and pop-Krispies."

"Mm," Piggot muttered, tapping her chin, "How about a vote?"

" _What?!"_

"All for calling these devices 'Krispies'?" She turned her gaze on us, and Miss Militia and I raised our hands, with Dragon moving her avatar up to show her agreement. Only Armsmaster didn't make a move.

We turned curious looks on him. "I don't care what they're called, only that they work," he said gruffly.

"Very well then, official designation for the firearm-neutralizing device is now Krispies, due to a three to one vote with one abstaining." Cortana threw her arms up again and grumbled incoherently. I surreptitiously offered Militia my fist and she just as subtly bumped it. "Armsmaster, I trust you can handle the filing? Then you're dismissed, see you tomorrow."

Said Tinker nodded once then turned on his heel and strode out, Dragon disappearing with a cheery smile to meet him in his lab. Militia winked a glittering onyx eye at me and sauntered away with all the casual predatory grace of a cat. Then Cortana looked at me, shook her head and muttered, "Sometimes I hate you."

"Uh-uh, you love me," I replied and she fade away with a sigh, leaving only me and the Director. "Welp…see you tomo-"

"You know there are cameras in the locker rooms, right?" She asked casually, arms folded behind her back in a relaxed parade rest. "Not in the bathrooms, but in the common area. Audio, too."

I blinked at her. "Okay, that's a tad weird. Anyways…" I paused as a thought occurred. The conversation I'd had with Missy had been in the common area. Someone had watched a very private conversation and I felt more than slightly violated. "Oh."

"Mm," she nodded, turning and striding from the room, heels clicking on the concrete. "I expect I'll hear more about the mysterious Cape that can heal deadly wounds with golden light. Have a pleasant night, Game Master."

…Well damn. My night wasn't over just yet.

.-.-.-

They knew it might happen. They'd known it was a possibility as soon as they found the stuff. They'd left it alone, foolishly, in the hope that he'd realize what he was doing could kill him, but then…

They heard a thump, then smaller thumps until they went to investigate and found him laid out on the floor, shuddering and gurgling horribly. She'd ran to him while her husband called for an ambulance, and they'd both held onto their boy as he overdosed in front of them, helpless. They'd followed the ambulance as it had flown down the streets, sirens screaming and lights burning, and they hadn't bothered to park properly before running inside where they now stood. Inside the room EMTs, nurses and doctors rushed around their son, one shoving a tube down his throat while another measured out a syringe of chemicals.

Then they heard it; the long, sharp tone. They saw their boy go limp on the table, saw the doctors and nurses whipped into a frenzy as they tried to restart his heart; but they knew it wouldn't work. The tone would go on and on until it died…and their hearts died with it. It pressed on their shoulders and weighed on their souls like five hundred pounds of slowly cooling molten metal: despair. Raw, angry and agonizing; even after the pain faded, the heaviness would never leave them.

They barely heard the footsteps behind them. But she noticed when a large hand, clad in archaic leather armor fell on her shoulder and gently pushed her out of the way. They were too stunned to ask why a robed, armored man was allowed in a hospital, watching as he swept into the room like a specter. A nurse turned to him, mouth open to shout when he steepled his fingers, thumbs touching each other to form a rough diamond shape, and a warm, comforting golden glow lit between his palms.

Then the man waved his hand at their boy, light washing through him, covering him like an iridescent shell before sinking inside of his skin and fading away.

For a second, for one, long, terrible second, nothing happened.

Then the monitor beeped. It beeped again. And it continued to beep steadily, even as their boy blinked and looked around the room, confused and scared.

But he was alive.

There was a moment of silence as the doctors, the nurses and the parents stared at the robed man. Then he nodded casually, turned on his heel and walked out.

She didn't realize she was moving until her hand closed around his wrist. She knew she was crying; she'd started on the drive to the hospital and felt like she would never stop, not until…

"Thank you," she burbled, eyes streaming with tears, lips fighting to form anything other then the despair-wrought grimace she'd worn, and failing handily. "Thank you…so, _so_ much…"

He peered at her beneath his hood, his eyes and mouth would've been outlined by the metal mask he wore, if not for the black cloth hiding his features from view. Gently, he patted her hand and she withdrew, sniffling…and then she coughed hard, a wet, rough hack that seemed to come from her stomach. The space between his hands glowed again and he directed the light at her.

Warmth swept through her body, tickling her organs and burning away the gunk in her throat, leaving behind only pleasant tingles.

Once more, he nodded politely and left, footsteps echoing, his stride slow and sure.

The overdosing boy had been a good start, but his work was far from over. He'd visit the emergency rooms first, then the long-term wards. Then, if he had any spells left over, he'd see to the children and more serious cases. And the next night, he'd come back to take care of the emergency room again. And after that…well, there was more than one hospital in Brockton Bay.

No, his work was _far_ from over.

.-.-.-

I walked out of the locker room with a yawn, rolling my wrists to get a feel for my upgraded Power Gloves. The integration of the Web shooters and the concussive blast/dart/Krispy launcher added a bit of weight, but it was also more comfortable and a bit more flexible, so it was all good in my eyes. And on my wrists.

Two heroes, my partners for the patrol, waited for me by the elevator. Assault and Battery. "Mornin', guys," I waved as I approached, "Who'd you piss off to get Daylight Duty?"

"Everyone," Assault greeted with a grin, "But in this case, this is just the start of our stretch. Us grown-up Capes usually run a three-on, three-off schedule, share the pain. Ready to get out there and have some fun?"

"No," I said bluntly. Four hours of sleep followed by a Restoration spell made a shitty substitute for a long, restful night, but I could deal. "But let's get to it."

"Ah, resignation. It's a wonderful feeling, kid, get used to it." Assault's tone was joking, but it felt like legitimate advice, so I took it as such.

We stepped into the elevator, Battery hitting the button to take us down to street level. "Do you know your route?" she asked kindly, a reassuring smile on her face.

"Downtown Banking and Big Business district," I answered, rolling my neck and shoulders. "Lots of big buildings to swing from, not much in the way of visible crime beside the odd pickpocket and purse snatcher, about as boring as it gets."

"A fair assessment," she nodded, fiddling with her gloves.

"Now that we know you won't get lost, time for the important question," the older man threw a red-clad arm around my shoulders and grinned, "Who would win a race, me or you?"

It didn't take me long to find the answer. "You." I thought some more. "Actually, anyone classified as a Speedster."

Assault frowned, even as his wife spoke up. "Oh? How so? I heard super speed is one of your powers," she asked, straightening a section of her skin-tight, circuit-patterned body-suit.

"Well yeah, but my top running speed is forty-five miles an hour," I explained as the elevator slowed to a stop, "Sure, that's faster than any regular human can go, but compared to you guys? No contest. Any car can outstrip me on the freeway."

The red-armored hero pinched the tip of his nose and sighed. "You're doing this wrong!" He complained, throwing his other arm up.

"…Sorry?" I offered, rubbing my neck.

"No, see, you're supposed to jump at the chance to show off for the lady here," he nudged his wife, who huffed, "And then we'd name a place and time for a race, I'd beat you, tamp down on your ego a bit, then we'd laugh and then I'd be your mentor! That's how relationships start in the hero world, unless cartoons have been lying to me all this time." He crossed his arms and pouted, and I wasn't sure whether he was serious about any of it or not.

"No, I'm good," I glanced at Battery, who was hiding a smirk behind her hand, "She's not my type, anyway."

"What does _that_ mean?" The heroine frowned at me, while at the same Assault asked, "What _is_ your type, then?"

"Unmarried," I answered as the elevator doors slid open, admitting us into the motorpool.

"Good answer," Battery snorted, Assault chuckling as she strode ahead of us to sign the paperwork that would allow them to take their designated vehicles out for the patrol.

A question I once asked was, 'why do two fast fuckers need to do patrols in cars?' and the answer I got was that they needed to conserve their energy for emergencies, which made sense. Being official Protectorate Capes and having the powers that come with it, it would be a simple task for one of them to ditch the car and speed off to take care of a crime. Also gives them a chance to cruise, stay fresh and enjoy some air conditioning.

I was selecting my playlist when I felt an elbow poke my side. I looked up at Assault, who jerked his head at Battery, who was talking with the vehicle operator about someone spilling soda on one of the seats. I looked back at him and shrugged. He elbowed me again and jerked his head at his wife again. "What?"

He put a finger to his lips, then waved at Battery in the manner of a game show host presenting a prize. I gazed at the circuit-patterned woman, noting the way she leaned over the counter let the morning light slipping down into the motorpool to play on the skin-tight fabric of her suit, displaying the profile of her calves, leading up to her muscled thighs and her taut, toned rear. From my observations, I concluded three things: One: Thank god for spandex. Two: Assault is a lucky man and three: nice.

I turned back to him with an impressed nod and a thumbs-up. He bowed graciously and offered a surreptitious fist-bump, which I gave. The two older heroes stepped away to grab their vehicles of choice and I walked outside, rolling my shoulders and checking my equipment one last time. Assault rolled up in an SUV, black with a row of lights on top and the Protectorate badge on the door and PRT on another. "Good luck," I spoke gravely and saluted him sharply, "We're all counting on you."

"Surely you can't be serious?" he replied, grinning widely.

"I _am_ serious, and don't call me 'Shirley,'" I shot back and Battery slowed to a stop with an audible groan.

"Please don't tell me this is going to happen all day," she sighed despairingly, "I can't stand one person quoting things at me, I don't know what I'd do with _two._ "

"Celebrate your good fortune?" Assault offered with a snicker, only to jump as his wife suddenly leaned on her horn. "And that's our queue to get to work! Check in hourly! And remember to have fun!" He peeled out with a squeal of his tires, though he didn't need to. The city streets were fairly empty and he had all the room he needed to get in traffic.

"Remember to report in all crimes and begin recording before intervening," Battery reminded with a smile and nod, her blinker turning on before she pulled away in a separate stream of traffic.

Crossing the street, I ran up the side of the skyscraper, the soles of my boots squeaking rhythmically against the glass as the noise of the traffic and pedestrians faded, overtaken by the whispering of the wind and the subtle creaking of hundred-story buildings as they minutely shifted.

Planting my hand on the edge of the roof, I flipped myself up, standing atop the city with the breeze buffeting my back. I cracked my neck and shook myself out, plotting my route to the Banking District. "Alright! My Krispies are loaded, my Web-Shooters are full, my adrenaline's pumping and my bladder is empty! Only one more thing to do!" I lifted a finger and pointed it at nothing. "Cortana, hit the music."

She grumbled about 'Krispies is such a stupid name,' under her breath before the guitar kicked in and I bobbed my head. I jumped, the whistling wind drowned out by the sound of kick-ass travel music blaring in my ears. "WHOOOOO!" I shouted out, throwing my arm out to shoot a web-line, the familiar thrill and power of swinging burning in my veins. As I swung over an intersection, I sang along with the song. " _Kickstart my heart!"_ And if anyone heard it or saw me pose mid-air, well…who cares?

…

Nothing happened in the first three hours, and for good reason. The Banking District is where almost all the money comes and goes in Brockton Bay, obviously, from the big businesses to the small, from the legitimate to the illegal, good and bad. It's one of the highest patrolled areas by police and Cape alike, and despite all the high-end goods shops, the money-lenders and the restaurants being excellent targets, you'd have to be stupendously desperate or desperately stupid to try and rob any of them.

For one, the cops and Capes would descend like locusts and even if, by some miracle, they got away, Empire Eighty-Eight would put a price on their head and make an example out of them.

Which is why, for the action-oriented sort like myself, it was boring as all hell. There was only one incident, _one_ in three hours, a pickpocket who barely made it a block before a nearby cop took 'em down. I didn't even have to stop.

But I eventually did, for a snack. It was a small stand, no seats or anything, just a counter with a register and a menu and a kitchen. The various spices floating through the air made my mouth water, and I barely had to wait to step up to the counter. "Mornin' Leon."

Leon, the man behind the counter, had a thick salt-and-pepper beard, dark skin, black eyes that were always crinkled in a wide, friendly smile. "Ah, hello Young Hero! What can I do for you today?" He had an accent, one I couldn't place but only made him sound as if he was always on the edge of bursting out into laughter.

"I have a hunger," I replied, lowering my voice and rasping harshly, "A hunger for justice that can never be sated…and also a hunger for food. What's on the menu today?"

"Very good, very good!" Leon smiled, brushing his hands together, "Today we are trying Latin American food! Very spicy, very tasty!"

"Alright, I'll take a special with everything on it, super spicy, with a thing of milk," I pulled a ten out of my wallet for the meal and dropped the change in the tip jar as Leon bustled about his kitchen, scooping beans, rice, meat, salsa, guacamole and some other stuff I didn't recognize on a large tortilla, then rolled it up and covered it in foil. He handed it to me with a pint of milk and some napkins.

"Enjoy your food, Young Hero! And remember to stop by again later, we're trying desserts!" He waved cheerfully as I tucked my food under one arm and headed for a good spot to unmask and eat my snack.

"I will! Thanks Leon, have a good one!" I saluted him and trotted off across the street, unbothered by the occasionally odd looks I got and the surprised gasps that followed as I jogged up the side of a building. Hopping across the roof to the adjacent one, which had a better view of the Bay, the Rig in the distance as one plucky ship chugged into the Docks despite the danger of the open seas.

It was there that I sat down, peeled open my burrito and took a bite. It was damn spicy, but very tasty, as promised.

 **TIMELINE A**

I paused mid-bite as the odd sensation of all my cells shivering rolled through my body, my organs tingling and contracting as if, suddenly, they weren't sure they existed. I shivered so hard I nearly dropped my lunch, but managed to cling onto it. My hair, all of it, prickled uncomfortably as I glanced around, searching for the source and a follow-up.

After a minute, nothing happened and cautiously, I went back to eating, washing down the spice with sips of milk. I made a mental note to see Leon again on my last Daylight Patrol and sample what he'd be cooking up then, balled up the tinfoil in the milk carton and dropped it into a dumpster down below, then leaned back and let my meal digest.

"Hey, Cortana," I said aloud, my eyes tracking the vessel as it inched its way past the Boat Graveyard, "Do you have any plans for some sort of device that can recycle metal and stuff? Maybe we can clean up the Graveyard one of these days."

"What would you do with a bunch of dead bodies?" She asked sarcastically, before pausing in thought. "Wasn't there a game series that had the ability to melt stuff down into…some sort of programmable matter goo?"

"Mass Effect," I replied, scratching my chin before I pulled my mask back up, "But they could only break weapons and equipment down. Maybe Armsmaster, Dragon and you and I could take scans and devise some sort of device that can render things down on a larger scale?"

"Alright, I'll make a note to set up a scanner and we can look at it later tonight," Cortana answered, my phone buzzing slightly as she did what she said she would. "But for now, breaktime's over. Time to get back to it."

"Yes ma'am," I nodded, standing and stretching my arms before backflipping off the edge of the roof to continue my patrol.

 **TIMELINE B**

I paused mid-bite as the odd sensation of all my cells shivering rolled through my body, my organs tingling and contracting as if, suddenly, they weren't sure they existed. I shivered so hard I nearly dropped my lunch, but managed to cling onto it. My hair, all of it, prickled uncomfortably as I glanced around, searching for the source and a follow-up.

After a few minutes, nothing happened and cautiously, I went back to eating only to jump as Cortana suddenly shouted, "Trouble!"

Setting my food down, I pulled my mask back up and asked, "What is it?"

"An alert came in from the First National Brockton Bay Bank," she replied, sounding distracted and incredulous, "Someone's…some group is _robbing_ the place."

I leaped from the building, swinging down hard and kicking my feet up to launch myself through the air, my boots barely touching the side of the building before I blurred into neon, racing across the windows before I jumped into another swing. " _Now?!_ It's-but…what the hell is going on?"

"Accessing the camera systems," she muttered, an arrow appearing in my HUD telling me to hang a left, "It's…mercenaries, heavily armed. They've taken the tellers and customers hostage, they're drilling into the main vault!"

" _Game Master!"_ Assault's voice came through the radio, his voice strained, " _Lock down the perimeter of the bank, but you are_ not _to approach the situation! I'm on my-shit!"_ The radio screeched static into my ear along with the shriek of twisting metal and shattering glass.

" _Ethan!"_ Battery called in distress, " _What happened? Are you alright?"_

" _I'm fine, but my car is totaled and-"_ He grunted with effort and a thump echoed over the radio, " _My door's stuck. Some fucker T-boned me going through the intersection! Puppy, where are you?"_

I swung up, grasping the edge of the roof to pull myself on top of the building next to the First National Brockton Bay Bank, allowing me to see the police cars lined up before the steps, officers with pistols ready, taking cover behind them.

The First National was the biggest bank in the Bay, and it showed. The steps, the columns, the entire facade was made marble or granite, some kind of expensive rock like it was some sort of Greek temple, with the entrance being made of neatly-ordered windows that let every passerby get a decent glimpse at the wealth hidden inside.

A window popped up in my HUD, showing the views from the cameras inside. " _There was a hit and run, I'm chasing down the suspect!"_ She replied, the window rushing over the radio. " _Give me a minute!"_

Two men covered the front, kneeling behind marble desks with _fucking_ _ **assault rifles**_ pointed at the officers behind their cars, wearing full tactical gear; ballistic helmets, bullet-proof vests, balaclavas, gloves and boots with a baton, a knife and a pistol on their belts. Five stood in the corners of the main room, boxing in fourteen hostages, their hands over their heads and separated into two lines with a fifth marching down the middle. Three more worked at the giant metal door of the vault, with a large drill grinding away at the lock.

Their positioning, their gear and their stances all screamed 'professional.' There weren't many mercenary companies in Brockton Bay, Faultline's crew and the Undersiders being some of them, and _none_ of them could bring military weaponry, tactics and gear to bear.

So who the fuck _could_?

"I'm on site," I reported into the radio, my fingers drumming rapidly against my knee. "Ten perpetrators with military gear, two out front, five with the hostages and three drilling the vault. What do I do?"

" _Do nothing,"_ Armsmaster's gruff voice growled over the channel, the roar of his bike in the background, " _Maintain the perimeter and keep watch, the professionals are on their way."_

I grunted under my breath, my eyes glued to the windows in front of me. Because of that, I noticed a woman poking her head out from behind a counter, pale and sweating as her eyes darted about the room. Seeing the mercenaries with their backs turned, she bolted for the stairs, heels clacking on the marble floor. She made it halfway up before one of her heels snapped and she fell with a surprised shout, the mercs spinning towards with the rapid response of professionals.

The woman kicked off her heels and, with impressive alacrity, took off up the stairs and deeper into the building. One of the mercenaries ran after her, rifle slung in his arms and boots echoing.

"Shit," I breathed, my pulse pounding in my ears, "One of the hostages is making a run for it, one of the mercenaries is chasing her. What do I do?" I followed her panicked route with my eyes, hoping she would escape.

" _Maintain the Perimeter!"_ Armsmaster shouted, the pitch of his motorcycles engines nearly screaming as he poured on the speed. " _Do not engage! Do not endanger yourself!"_

My heart seized as the woman turned the wrong corner and ended up at a dead end, fruitlessly pulling at locked emergency exit. "She's trapped! He closing in on her!" I shouted, standing on the edge of the roof, my body trembling. "She needs help!"

" _DO! NOT! ENGAGE!"_ The Tinker roared.

"She's going to _die!"_ I shouted, my fists clenching hard enough that I could feel my tendons straining against the bones of my knuckles. Faintly, through the camera, I could see the woman lose hope, slumping against the door and pounding weakly on it while muttering, ' _No, please…'_

" _GAME MASTER, THIS IS A DIRECT ORDER!"_ Armsmaster screamed, bringing the full force of his voice to bear. " _DO NOT ENGAGE, I REPEAT, DO_ _ **NOT ENGAGE!"**_

The mercenary rounded the corner and spotted her at the end, rifle rising to point at her back. She heard the echoing of his boots on the floor and dove for cover, wailing as bullets ripped through the air she'd been occupying, punching holes into the metal door.

"Fuck _that,_ and _Fuck_ _ **You!**_ I didn't become a hero just to stand by while lives are on the line!" I shouted, switching off the radio before taking a running leap from the roof, shooting a webline across the gap and swinging over to kick my feet through the window, landing in the office and rolling to my feet to shoulder-charge through the door, bursting into the hallway behind the mercenary. "HEY!"

He spun on his heel, bringing his gun to bear as I shot a line at it. The muzzle flashed three times just before the line connected, my Spider Senses bolting through my nerves as I leaned out of the way, yanking the rifle from his hands in the same motion.

As if the air had become molasses, I saw the bullets as they cut towards me, and watched as they sailed through the space I'd just been to punch into the stone wall, leaving behind craters the size of silver dollars.

I froze. My muscles locked into place even as my mind raced, my eyes darting to each bullet-hole, unable to stop myself from visualizing where they would've hit me had I not dodged.

The first would have pierced through my sternum, just between my lungs. The second would've hit just above my clavicle. And the third would've landed right on the bridge of my nose.

Three shots. Three shots, and each of them would've killed me. I would've been dead three times over.

I shivered uncontrollably, the echoing of boots ignored, panic flooding my nerves like liquid nitrogen. I could've died, leaving Cecilly alone in the world. Leaving Sarah to tell Cecilly of my death and shatter their hearts. Leaving Taylor bereft of her only friend, the only one who could understand her. And depriving the world of the good I could do.

I heard the unsheathing of his baton, the rasp of metal sliding against metal and the faint buzz of electricity as the taser at the end activated.

I heard the air part as his arm pulled back, heard it hiss as he swung it at me…

My hand snapped up, squeezing the sparking end in my fist. Volts needled at my nerves, my heart thundering in my ears as the blood in my veins began to _burn_.

I clenched my fist, the taser sputtering and shorting out as I crushed it.

That man…he would've killed me. Because I intervened to save a life. Because I caused him trouble. Because I acted like a _hero._

I would not let that injustice stand.

I would not die.

I had good to do.

I bent the baton back, his wrist creaking as my strength overpowered his, his eyes widening. I drew my other arm back, hand clenching into a fist, knuckles cracking with restrained power, muscles pulling taut as energy built within them.

I punched him in the head. His neck bent, feet leaving the floor as his helmet shattered under the force of my blow, flying through the air to impact the wall on the other side of the hall.

Blood dripped from the lacerations on his skin, but he lived. Only thanks to the perk that made me unable to kill.

With calm I did not feel, the adrenaline pumping through my body like pure lightning, I webbed him to the floor, turned to the woman as she peeked out from behind the vase she dived behind, and told her, "Stay there."

I walked to the balcony overlooking the main floor, my eyes darting from enemy to enemy, a plan of action forming in my mind. I jumped on the banister and looked down at them.

"Cortana!" I barked, "Krispies!"

My Power Gloves clicked and I flicked my fingers, firing darts into their rifles before they even realized I was there. The darts snapped on, buzzing quickly before their weapons burst into pieces in their hands.

I flipped down onto the mercenary below, my heel crashing down into the pistol he'd drawn from his holster, crushing it against the floor. His arm whipped out, drawing his baton and striking in one smooth motion. I caught it with my wrist, bent his arm around and kicked his heel before seizing him by the vest and diving to the side, slamming his head into the counter while I spun behind it, blurring into neon as I raced up the wall. I jumped, bouncing off a pillar as I spun, neon grenades forming in my hands before I flicked them out, landing at their feet and exploding, sending them floating up into the air.

In the same motion, I spun and shot a webline at the mercenary in the middle of the hostages; or more precisely, the ground behind him. I yanked, shooting myself forward, my hand grasping him by the face and slamming him into the marble floor as I landed. "Go!" I shouted at the hostages, firing a brace of Impact Webbing at the two floating mercs at the front, pinning them against the glass.

As they raced out, I charged at the nearest merc, slapping the pistol out of his hand and kicking the legs out from under him, chopping him in the chest mid-air and webbing him to the floor.

"Contact!" One of the remaining mercenaries shouted into his radio, drawing his pistol and firing at me. I danced out of the way of his bullets, snagging his gun with a webline that brought it do my hand before I dashed forward, shattering it against the side of his head with a swing. My Sense trilled in alarm and I ducked, the sparking end of a stun baton passing through the air where my head used to be.

I dropped and kicked back, knocking a foot out from underneath a mercenary before darting up, my fist crashing into his jaw and sending him stumbling back. I stepped forward, deflecting a wild punch and grasped the front of his tactical vest, tearing it off and tossing it aside before turning and slamming my open palm against his sternum. He flew back, bursting through the glass doors of the bank to roll down the marble steps.

My eyes twitched. Something was wrong. The places I'd webbed the guarding mercs were empty.

Something crashed against my back, my vision blurring as barbs of electricity tangled in my nerves. I spun to find another mercenary behind me, arm back for another swing, webbing still clinging stubbornly to his vest, the edges blackened and burnt. Pain and anger burned in me, and I smacked his swing aside, jabbing the side of his head with my fist and pushing him away. As he stumbled, I hooked my fingers under his vest and bodily heaved him over my head, slamming him back-first through a heavy wooden desk.

My neck prickled and I jumped, spinning over the trio of bullets that would've hit me in the back, my wrist flicking out to web a chair and whip it at the legs of a mercenary, sweeping the legs out from under him.

I stood in the center of the room as the remaining mercs readied themselves, some putting away knives with edges that glowed orange with heat. How?! How did they already know the weakness of my webs?! I'd only used them for a few days!

Wordlessly, one charged as another took aim. I ripped the gun from his hands and spun, clotheslining the mook as he barreled at me, snapping the pistol in half and knocking him to the floor. Another came at me with stun baton drawn; I countered his swing and pulled the baton from his grip, driving a strike into the back of his knee before jamming the sparking tip into his chest. He shuddered and spasmed as the shock struck his system, before I pulled back and swung it into his chin, throwing him onto his back.

Wood shifted and the one I'd slammed into the desk put his shoulder down and threw himself at my back. I jumped and flipped, driving my feet into his back and stomping him into the floor.

Then I heard heavy thumps and saw the three mercs who'd been working at the vault coming up, lead by a huge bastard with a riot shield on his arm. "What the hell is this…?" I wondered aloud, casually firing two more Krispies at the rifle-wielding mercs, blowing their weapons apart. They cursed and drew batons, charging in as the big one lumbered behind them. One swung at my mid-section while the other struck out at my head and I threw out my arms, stopping them cold, only for the big bastard to slam his shield into my chest, throwing me back.

I flipped and landed neatly on my feet, neon rippling over my form to restore my body, and I remembered that I had more than webs to work with. The two mercs ran forward again and I moved to meet them, going neon and dashing between them before they could react, throwing myself into a slide beneath the big man as he swung again, depositing a grenade between his boots. It detonated and he exploded into the air and I jumped to meet him, driving my heel into his chest and pushing him up, flipping and throwing out a line to swing myself into a kick, hurling him across the room, his shield flying in another direction.

 _Heavy Disarmed,_ the message floated in my vision, before rising to color in a grey line on the bomb in the corner of my sight. Only one more to go.

I smirked beneath my mask and threw myself forward at the two mercs, catching their wild strikes and yanking them together, helmeted heads crashing against each other before I stepped in and kicked them apart, ripping their batons away.

The heavy pulled himself back up, the remaining conscious mercs standing with him, making eight. The first was still upstairs, another was out front, hopefully secured by the police. And I only need one more non-lethal action to fill the bomb.

I threw my hand out, neon flowing over my skin as time slowed and I shot one of the mercs in the ankle, light wrapping around his body and sending him to the floor.

 _Enemy Restrained._ The bomb filled and began to dance eagerly. "This is it!" I shouted, drawing on the colorful energy within and letting it spill out, a wave of light rushing out across the floor to throw them in the air and hold them as I burst into ribbons of neon, rising into the air with iridescent power pouring out of my body. I threw my hands out and massive bolts of neon energy poured forth, joyously piercing the air and filling the building with light and sound.

And then, in one last flash, it was done. I landed lightly on my feet, followed by a series of thumps as the mercenaries fell to the ground, tightly restrained in binds of light.

It was over.

My heart still pounded in my chest, but the adrenaline slowly dripped away as I made my past the bound forms, my boots crunching on the shattered glass as I emerged from within the bank and into the daylight. At the bottom of the steps, police officers waited, a pair loading a cuffed merc into an armored van and on the other side of the street, behind wooden barriers, stood a crowd of people, including the former hostages.

Armsmaster had just pulled to a stop, drawing his halberd from his motorcycle and preparing to charge in when I emerged and he froze, his mouth tightening into a thin, furious line. Battery skidded to a halt next to him, breathing heavily but muscles coiled to spring into action at a moment's notice.

I looked at them all, my gaze sweeping from Cape to Cop to Civilian, the silence oppressive.

Then I raised my hand and gave them a thumbs-up. "Got 'em."

The crowd began to cheer and several of the officers clapped me on the shoulders as they rushed up the steps to sweep the building and secure the mercenaries. Armsmaster stood stiffly at the bottom of the stairs, the gloves of his suit creaking alarmingly as he gripped his halberd. Battery looked torn between a worried frown, a relieved smile and a stern scowl, but settled on a gentle nod.

"You disobeyed _direct orders,_ " Halbeard hissed through clenched teeth, his foot tapping the concrete street, "I ordered you to _maintain the perimeter and_ _ **wait**_ for us to arrive. Instead, you recklessly charged in and put yourself, and the hostages, in danger!"

A police officer emerged from the bank, the woman I'd saved leaning heavily against her shoulder as she lead her down the steps. "She was about to get _shot_ ," I said firmly, waving a hand at the woman, "What was I supposed to do, huh? Let her _die?_ Just to keep myself safe? What would you have done, Halbeard? What would _you_ have done in _my_ position?"

"Don't change the subject," he growled, pushing a finger against my chest, "You should have _waited_ for us, _experienced_ Capes, to handle the situation. We have the experience, the training, and _ability_ that _you_ lack."

I slapped his hand aside and stepped into his space, tilting my head back to look him visor-to-visor. "No, I _shouldn't have_. Stop me if I'm wrong, but being a Cape, a _fucking_ _ **Hero**_ , is about _saving lives._ Which _I did._ I don't care about the danger, I signed up for it! Putting my life on the line to protect those who cannot protect themselves, even if I have to pay the ultimate price!" I pushed against his armored chest and he stepped back slightly. " _That's_ what I am, _that's_ what I do, Armsmaster…and if you're not, maybe you're in the wrong line of work."

Battery gasped sharply as Armsmaster drew himself up to his full height, the butt of the halberd digging into the concrete, his lips pulled back in a furious snarl.

There was a rush of air and Assault slid into view, bouncing off the side of a cop car. "So, did I miss anything important?" He greeted with a roguish grin, brushing a thin line of blood from a cut on his cheek.

The tense atmosphere died and we stepped back, the Tinker turning and muttering about securing the prisoners. Battery sighed, rubbing her nose and made to follow, patting my shoulder. "You're done for the day, alright? Head back to HQ and prepare your report…and cool down on the way," she added, before nodding her head at Armsmasters back, "And maybe start thinking about how you're going to apologize."

I tensed, ready to growl at her. The last thing I wanted to do in that moment was apologize to that fucker. Instead, I sighed and nodded, the heroine patting my shoulder one more time before departing and I watched her ascend the steps.

"Thought she wasn't your type?" Assault asked with a snicker, bumping my arm with a fist. "So, I can assume by the fact that Armsmaster is pissed and Puppy is worried that you disobeyed orders and jumped in anyway?"

"Yeah," I nodded, running a hand through my hair and pausing as I realized just how sweaty I was. "I couldn't help it, though. I _had_ to jump in, someone was going to get shot. I couldn't let that happen, not when I could stop it."

"Hey, you don't have to tell me," he raised his hands in surrender, his grin losing the rakish edge to become warm. "It's those heroic instincts, ya know? If you didn't have 'em, you wouldn't be here in the first place. But, maybe next time you follow the hostages out instead of fighting all of the bad guys at the same time?" He offered gently, "Just a suggestion."

"That would've been the smart thing, I guess," I admitted with a sigh. What would they have been able to do without hostages? They could've held off Armsmaster, sure, but they'd have been fucked when Assault and Battery showed up. "I think…I think I just got caught up in the adrenaline, the rush of the fight…"

"You're a teenager, you know?" The red-armored hero said with a smile, poking my shoulder with an elbow, "You're allowed, nay, _encouraged_ , to make mistakes. That's why I'm still a teenager at heart." We shared a chuckle and he threw an arm around my shoulder, pulling me around to look at the crowd, most of which had dispersed, though a few remained. I waved and they cheered, a few whooping loudly. "Bask in it a bit. Feels good, doesn't it? The adoration of the crowd."

"Yeah," I murmured, letting the energy fill me, a lightness of self settling on my shoulders like a mantle. "It feels great."

"Just don't let it go to your head, you've still got a lot to do," Assault reminded me before slapping my back. "Now head on back home and get a juice box and some orange slices, you've earned 'em." He jogged up the steps and disappeared, the rest of the crowd dispersing. I made to leave, but I remembered the woman I'd saved. She was sitting on the back of an ambulance, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders.

Leaving could wait until I'd made sure she was okay.

A thin man clad in bodysuit leaned back in his chair, the white of his snake mask glinting in the light of the monitors before him. "Interesting," Coil muttered to himself, tapping the chin of his mask thoughtfully, "A rather versatile powerset, with the potential to grow. Yes, _very_ interesting. Perhaps a few more tests of the boy's ability are in order? And then we'll see what can be done to direct that potential…the _right_ way."

He watched as Game Master swung away from the bank, the useful devices strapped to his wrists lending him a surprising amount of speed through the city-scape. It had been a bit of a gamble, directing a few thugs to cause trouble during the Daylight Patrols, but the information he'd gathered had been worth it.

He replayed a section of footage, when the young Cape had caught the stun baton aimed at his head, and watched as the teenager spun and uncorked a perfectly-executed right hook with enough strength to shatter the tactical helmet the mercenary had been wearing. He checked another monitor, observing as Armsmaster roused the same mercenary who appeared to be concussed with a fractured skull, but still alive. Strength to do such a thing, yet leave the target harmed, but alive, spoke of an almost impossibly precise control. Potential, indeed.

And besides, it wasn't gambling when such actions wouldn't exist with but a thought, would it?

Closing his eyes, Coil flexed his power and closed the line where he'd ordered a team of professional mercenaries to rob the most prolific bank in Brockton Bay, a demonstration of his influence that he couldn't afford to make at this stage in his plans. The information he'd gathered would best be put to use in the timeline where no such thing had been ordered, and Game Master's third Daylight Patrol had been supremely boring at best. Definitely.

At least, he tried to close the line.

Pure agony suffused his body, his brain burning as if set aflame.

Coil fell out of his chair, clutching his head and releasing a lung-tearing scream. In his sanctum, underground and protected by inches of steel and concrete, no one, not even the mercenaries guarding the door, heard a thing.

 **TIMELINE A**

"Here we go," I muttered, setting the woman down on the bench. Her red suit was smudged, the lines messy and her hair, once neatly done up in a bun, had come loose. But that was to be expected after her heel snapped as she was crossing the street and she fell fairly hard on the concrete. "Are you alright?" Luckily, I'd just come from the convenience store nearby with a can of tea and had rushed into the street to carry her off.

"I'm fine," she mumbled, though the way she was white-facedly clutching her ankle told another story. Accessing Neverwinter Nights, I gently reached out and touched her foot, the subtle glow of the weak healing spell completely invisible in the afternoon sunlight. Her eyebrows shot up as the color returned to her cheeks, her glasses low on her nose. "…How'd you do that?" She asked faintly, gingerly testing her ankle on the sidewalk.

"Magic," I answered coyly, wiggling my fingers, "Now, are you actually alright?"

"Yeah, for the most part," she sighed, tugging off her heels and half-heartedly tossing them at a nearby trash can. One made it in, the other bounced off the side with a loud clang. "Great, _just_ great…first, I'm late to work, then I couldn't find the Anderson file, and now my heel broke right as I'm going to lunch and…" She checked her watch and sighed, slumping back against the bench, "And now my break's almost over…and I gotta walk back…crap."

I couldn't help but feel bad for her, so I reached out and patted her shoulder. "It'll be alright, you know? Some days are just shit, but at least tomorrow can only be better." She nodded, drawing herself up, still visibly miserable. "I know it might be a tad trite, but it could always be worse, yeah?"

"I suppose you're right," she ran a hand through her hair, straightening her glasses and standing up from the bench, only to flinch and hop back. "Oh ew, I just stepped in gum…ugh, it's sticking to my foot…ew, ew, ew."

"At least you didn't get hit by a car," I offered, standing up and kneeling in front of her. "Here, hop on and I'll carry you back."

"Re-really?" She stuttered, her cheeks red. "I, uh, that's…you don't have to do that…"

"Protect and Serve, ma'am," I looked at her over my shoulder, winking cheekily. Then I remembered that my face was covered. "Wink."

"Al-alright," the woman muttered, carefully climbing on my back, "If…if you're sure…"

"I wouldn't have offered if I wasn't," I replied, hooking my wrists under her knees and easily lifting her up, her hands resting on my shoulders. "So, uh, where do you work? And what's your name? I don't let just anyone ride me, y'know."

"Abigail, my name's Abigail," she said, and I could feel her fingers twitching. "I work at the First National Brocton Bay Bank."

For some reason, the name of her workplace made my mind shudder, almost like deja vu. I'd seen the place before; hard not to, being fancy as fuck. But I'd never been inside.

Shaking it off, I carried her to the Bank, the sidewalk mostly empty from the lunch rush that would soon end. I hopped up the steps and deposited her at the front door, getting amused looks from the security guards posted nearby. "Here you are, Abigail. Hope you enjoyed the ride, make sure to deposit your review in the comment box as you exit the vehicle."

She chuckled quietly, brushing down her skirt and fixing her glasses, even though they hadn't slipped. "Thank you for, uh, this," she waved a hand at her feet, clad only in hose, "Mister…Game Master, right?" At my nod, she quickly patted herself down and withdrew a slightly crumpled card from her jacket. "Here! If, you know, if you ever want to open an account or…get a loan or something…"

 _Abigail Benson,_ it read, _Assistant Head Accountant._ "I will, Miss Benson," I nodded, tucking it securely in my belt. "Have a good day, alright?"

I made my way down the steps, feeling pretty good about myself. Even if that was the most interesting event to happen that day and was pretty damn low on the excitement side, it still felt nice. Like I told Missy before, sometimes being a hero isn't a big fight but just doing little things to make someone's day better.

Then the pain struck. Like a railroad spike to my temporal lobes, agony lanced through my brain and I fell to my knees, clutching my head. My eyes watered and my vision split, the street before me wavering like a mirage; one second it looked like a roof, the other it was the street. Pressure expanded in the confines of my skull, my brain trying to punch out my head through my ears, nose and eyes.

I threw my head back and screamed.

 **TIMELINE B**

I carefully wrapped my arms around the trembling woman, letting her sniffle into my shoulder as I slowly rubbed her back. I hadn't expected her to practically leap at me when I came to check on her, but then again, we'd both been shot at. And, to be honest, I needed a hug.

"You're alright, it's going to be okay, okay?" I murmured, my hand gently stroking her spine.

"Thank you," she whispered, her breath hot on my neck, my shoulder damp from her tears, "Thank you so much, I thought…I thought… _thank you._ "

"It'll be alright, you're safe now," I replied, drawing back with my hands on her shoulders. "There's no need to thank me, I was just doing my job."

"I know," she sniffed, wiping at her eyes with the shock blanket, her glasses foggy, "I know, but still…"

"Will you be okay?" I asked gently, and she nodded, her hair having spilled out of the neat bun it had once been.

"I doubt I'll get any sleep tonight, and there's probably a therapist in my future…but yeah, I'll be okay." She gave me a watery smile and touched my arm, before her eyes widened. "Oh! Before you go, do you have some paper?...And a pen?"

I produced both and quickly scribbled something down, passing it back to me. It had her name, Abigail Benson, and her number underneath. "Um…"

"I owe you a lot," Abigail explained quickly, her cheeks rosy, "And I know I can't really repay you, but…I can least buy you lunch someday."

"You don't have to-" I began, but she seized my hand and cut me off.

"Please?" She asked, eyes wide and watery, the perfect pout to pierce my defenses and I don't think she was even trying.

"Alright, I will," I acquiesced with a pat of her hand, "I'll check my schedule and let you know, Ms. Benson."

"Abby, please," Abigail insisted, dropping my hand. "Thanks again."

I gave her a cheeky salute before I fired a webline off and shot off into the air.

For the first time since I'd gotten my Web Shooters, I didn't bother with going for style points, simply jumping from one line to the next, the strain on my shoulders and arms draining my energy.

"Cor _tana_ ," I began, straining as I swung up and released, "Tell me the truth: how did I do?"

"You did well," she said lightly, then sighed after a few seconds of sullen silence. "There were a few things you could've handled better, but you're still alive, which I count as a win."

I kicked my legs up, sailing over the lip of a roof and landing in a roll. I sighed, kneeling and staring at my gloved hands. They trembled despite the deep, steadying breaths I took. "I froze."

"It was your first time being shot at," Cortana reasoned gently, her voice soothing. "You've faced guns before, but you haven't had live ammo coming at you. Everyone freezes; the important thing is that you didn't get hurt."

"I would've healed," I insisted stubbornly, clenching my shaking hands into fists, but that only made it worse.

"Did you know that in the moment?" My AI Companion asked by way of reply.

"…No," I muttered, dropping my hands. "It didn't even occur to me until now."

"There's always room for improvement, Saul, but you handled it as well as you could. The criminals are on their way to prison, none of the hostages got hurt, and no money was stolen," she continued. "Sure, you may have told Armsmaster to fuck off and implied that he's a coward, but I know from the vital output of your suit that you're still wired. You're fine. The day is saved. That's what's important."

Standing up, I exhaled heavily and shook my arms out. "You're right," I finally said, "Just like always."

I jumped from the roof and shot a line, kicking my legs down and up. "Of course I'm right, I'm-"

 _ **PRESSURE.**_

Like a thousand steel vices closing in on every inch of my body, pressure from every direction slammed down on me, my arms unconsciously curling around my chest. I bounced off something and rolled, but I barely noticed through the pain.

Crushing, squeezing, compression that tried crumple me up like a sheet of tinfoil and stomp me underfoot. I clutched my head and tried to scream, but the pressure sent the air rushing from my lungs in a long, choked wheeze.

Titanic hands closed further around me, my vision flashing to a street, voices in my ear, hands on my shoulders, Cortana shouting.

 _ **ERror #-$#ReCurSIV- &!+#$&**_ **re** _ **cUrsive**_ _ERRRORDE_ CTED _#+ & _

I clawed at my head as the pressure grew, but I had no fingers. Then I realized why:

I was being erased.

An orb of force sat in my chest, slowly being crushed out of existence. I latched onto it with my will, feeding it my energy as it pulsed and pushed back.

It felt like years, draining my life into that force in me, pressure rising to meet pressure.

I felt it give just a fraction. I poured in everything I had left.

I will not be erased! I shouted into the void.

 _I will not be erased!_

 _I WILL NOT BE ERASED!_

 _ **I WILL NOT BE ERASED!**_

 _ **I WILL. NOT. BE. ERASED!**_

Something snapped. I heard a distant scream, a voice that sounded like my own. It echoed into nothing and vanished and if it had never existed. The pressure inside me rushed out through my pores, a force washing over the world around me and I fell limp on the rooftop.

My stomach twisted and I scrabbled at my mask, pulling it down just as I began vomiting heavily. I could barely taste the acrid bile before I hurled again, and again until my stomach was empty and I collapsed next to the puddle, shivering violently.

I don't know how long I lay there, twitching and sweating as if I'd just been struck by lightning, but the world came back to me in dribs and drabs of color and noise.

"-aul! Saul!" Cortana shouted worriedly, sighing in relief as I grunted affirmatively. "Thank god, you're alright! What happened? Your vitals suddenly spiked and then you collapsed!"

"…I'm not sure," I rasped out, shakily pushing myself up. "Something…something happened and…and I…I don't know. It felt like I was being crushed and…erased at the same time. I don't know why."

"Can you stand? Should I call someone to get you?"

"No, no…I'm fine." I cast a cleaning cantrip and minor Restoration, and although I was clean and my energy was back, I felt hollow and filthy, like I'd been dunked in bacon grease and rolled in sand. "I can do it."

Whatever or whoever the source of that… _hell_ was, I vowed to find it.

Find it and destroy it.

.-.-.-

Sarah didn't bother to hide her worry as she glanced at her young charge in the passenger seat, his eyes slightly glazed, expression drawn and skin pale. Just he had been for the last few hours.

Ever since she'd heard that Saul had charged in to a highly dangerous situation with heavily armed mercenaries and hostage, she'd felt a cruel mix of pride, fear and anger. She'd rushed to the Console room, watched with several others through the camera in his visor as he fought.

The strength he could bring to bear, the agility, the power and just the _ability_ he could use made her want to grin so badly that her jaw hurt. The sight of him unleashing blasts of light almost worthy of Lady Photon had her biting on her knuckles to keep from cheering aloud.

But that had faded, replaced by concern as he comforted the woman he'd saved. She saw his hands shaking as he patted her shoulder, and her worry had only grown when his vitals spiked and he'd had what could only be a _massive_ panic attack mid-air. Her heart had leapt to her throat as he tumbled through the air, feeling only a brief respite when he fortunately landed on a nearby roof instead of splattering on the ground, though she still winced as he hit the ground hard and rolled.

As her thoughts turned to the visual of her charge shivering so hard part of her was sure he was freezing to death, she cursed the older Capes and briefly entertained a fantasy of marching up to any of them and decking them with all her strength. It wouldn't happen and even if it did, she'd probably hurt herself more than them, but that stop her from enjoying the idea.

They should've known better than to leave him alone to travel back to base. They should've known the adrenaline would wear off and that the shock would hit him, fittingly, like a bolt of lightning. The helplessness of watching Saul shake and be sick so violently would feature in her nightmares for some time to come.

When he'd arrived at HQ, he was shaking, pale and although not sick again, seemed on the verge of either passing out or throwing up, even after he'd had a shower. Sarah had stuck by him as the Director reviewed his actions, having to refrain from jumping in when Piggot had sternly told him off for disobeying orders and putting himself in danger, then also refraining from dropping her jaw when the other woman had subtly praised his selfless actions and told him that, since the attempted robbery had been so unexpected that he'd receive no punishment for intervening despite orders. Though, she made it _very_ clear that his following 'conversation' with Armsmaster would require an apology.

Then, with an almost sympathetic nod, Director Piggot had ordered Sarah to take Saul home.

The drive had been silent except for the engines. Even as she pulled in to the driveway, her charge hadn't spoken a word. She opened his door, took him by the arm and led him inside to sit on the couch, taking a seat next to him. "Saul? Are you alright?" Sarah felt slightly stupid asking a question with such an obvious answer, but she couldn't think of anything else to say. His lack of response only built her concern farther, and she gently grasped his shoulder.

He jumped, turning startled, blood-shot blue eyes on her, looking as if he'd just realized she was there. "Sarah?" He asked faintly. "When did…are we home?"

"Yes, we are," she answered, squeezing his shoulder gently. "Are you okay, Saul? Do you want to talk about it?"

Saul peered at her almost confusedly before slowly shaking his head. "No, no, I'm…I'm fine. I'm fine."

She scooted closer to him, sliding her arm around his shoulders. "Are you sure? I'm here for you. You don't have to hide anything from me, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I know…" He blinked rapidly, his neck tensing as he swallowed hard, his eyes beginning to shine, "I know. I just…I…" He exhaled, struggling to maintain his facade until their gazes met and his face crumpled. He collapsed against her shoulder, crying silently.

Sarah drew him into her arms, embracing his shaking form, uncaring of the wetness staining her shirt and the choked, gasping sobs against her neck, closing her eyes and resting her cheek on top of his head.

She held him for hours, the sky darkening. Slowly, they'd shifted until she was leaning against the couch's arm, his ear pressed to her chest as he slept, her fingers combing through his hair, offering more comfort while he rested.

She jumped slightly, arms tightening around her charge as the lock clicked and the slim form of Saul's Aunt, Cecilly Whittaker, stepped into the house. The other woman's eyes fell on them and widened, a smile curling her lips as she quietly closed the door. "Getting some good cuddling time?" She teased, reaching out to stroke her nephew's cheek.

"He needs the sleep," Sarah replied with a minute shrug. "He's had a stressful day." An understatement.

Cecilly scowled angrily. "What the hell were they thinking, letting him jump in like that? Why the _fuck_ weren't they there, that my Saul had to fight _ten goddamn men_ on his own?" Saul shifted on Sarah's chest, blinking blearily up at them and her expression became a warm smile. "But I'm so damn proud of you, sweetie. Sometimes that pride comes with the threat of a heart-attack, but I can deal with that."

"Sorry, Cecilly" he mumbled, not quite awake, "I won't…let anything…happen to you…"

His aunt bent over and helped the other woman push Saul up, his surprisingly heavy frame leaning on their shoulders. Carefully, they half-carried him to his room, where Sarah held him up and Cecilly stripped his socks, shoes and jacket off before, together, they tucked him in. The lawyer brushed her hands through his hair and kissed his cheek, murmuring, "Goodnight. Sweet dreams, my hero."

She stepped back and Sarah patted his shoulder. Cecilly arched an eyebrow at her and jerked her chin at the sleeping teenager. Slightly embarrassed, she too kissed his cheek and they stepped out, closing the door. They crept into the kitchen where the smaller woman bustled about, pulling a bottle of watermelon schnapps and a pair of mugs out of her cupboard, pouring them each a generous measure. Silently, they downed the alcohol and Cecilly poured them another.

After a few minutes, Sarah asked a question that had been on her mind for some time. "Cecilly, if you don't mind me asking, why does Saul call you, well, 'Cecilly' more often than he calls you 'Aunt?'"

"Ah," the blonde lawyer slumped slightly, brushing loose hair from her eyes, "Well, I guess it's because I've been kind of a shitty aunt. After his parents died, I was the only person left to take him in…the only person who would've treated him well, anyways, _fuck_ his grandparents," she scowled, angrily downing the rest of her glass before refilling it. "But I'd never taken care of anyone other than myself before and…I was kinda bad at it. I thought, for the longest time, that keeping us in the house he grew up in would help him with dealing with losing his parents, but Angela and Ken were both smart bastards with good jobs. Me, as a paralegal, I couldn't keep up. I had to work overtime almost everyday for seven years, which meant we didn't spend a lot of time together. I think, maybe, on some level that Saul more considers me the woman he lives who's named 'Aunt' instead of actually being his aunt…which, well, I'm not. Not by blood."

"I'd been wondering about that, too," Sarah added, finishing off her glass and refusing another, "Dewitt, Whittaker…was it his father or his mother with Whittaker?"

"Neither," Cecilly answered, screwing the cap back on the schnapps and sighing. "His mom, my sister, was Angela Dewitt. His dad was Kensei Yamashita. I go by Whittaker because that was my birth name, I was only ever called Cecilly Dewitt when Angel's parents adopted me."

"Oh…so, you didn't _have_ to take Saul in," the PRT officer realized, scratching her burn scar.

The lawyer scoffed. "Of course I _had_ to. Blood or not, Angel was my sister and I loved her dearly. After she was through dealing with her parent's bullshit, she followed me to America. She showed up with a pregnant and with a husband, sure, but I loved Ken like a brother. There's no way in _hell_ I'd like his damn grandparents get their hands on him, not after living with them for sixteen years." Cecilly shook her head. "Sorry, but I don't want to talk about it anymore. I think I'm just gonna turn in for the night."

Sarah gathered the glasses and took them to the sink while the shorter woman put her alcohol away. "Speaking of that, can I stay here for the night? I don't want to leave Saul alone tonight and I want to be close just in case he has a nightmare."

"Of course, you're always welcome," Cecilly replied, reaching out to pat her arm. "You can share my bed, if you want, it's got plenty of room. And not in _that_ way, I mean." She smiled teasingly, her eyes glinting. "Or maybe you want to stay in Saul's room?"

"Both of those are inappropriate for various reasons," Sarah answered dryly, "I was thinking the couch."

"Alright, you know where the blankets are," the lawyer said, stepping in to hug the taller woman. "Thanks for being here for him, Sarah. I can't tell you how much it means to me. Sleep tight, okay?"

"I will," the officer nodded, grabbing a blanket, kicking off her shoes and making herself comfortable on the couch. Despite the early hour, the stress of the day caught up and she fell asleep easily.

.-.-.-

… _Saul…_

 _Please…I…need to see you…_

… _Please, Saul, wake up…_

I sat up with a gasp, despite the protests of my muscles, searching the room for the source of the voice. When no one made themselves known, I turned inward. _Taylor?_

… _Hey,_ she replied shyly, _I'm sorry to bother you, but…I-I need to see you. I…something happened today, and…please, just…just come here?_

 _Alright,_ I nodded tiredly, pulling on my socks and shoes and slipping my phone into my pocket.

"Saul?" Cortana's voice quietly asked, "What are you doing?"

"Taylor needs me," I replied, sliding open my window, removing the screen and jumping out.

"And _you_ need your sleep!" She protested, "I know you feel you owe her, but you didn't have an easy day! You'll see her in the morning!"

"Can't," I denied, breaking into a jog, "She said 'please.'"

"Damn all this teenage nonsense and damn you," Cortana muttered, her voice resigned. "You need to take care of yourself, and since I lack a physical body at the moment, it's down to you to watch out for us!"

"I know." My world lit up in white and pink as I sprinted down the sidewalk, and even as effortless and powerful Neon speeding usually made me feel, I couldn't help but wish I was back in bed.

In a few minutes time, I'd arrived at the Hebert house, the lights all off. I circled around to the back and climbed the wall to Taylor's window. _I'm here._ Before I'd even thought of the words, Taylor was pulling open her window and removing the screen so I could slip in. The instant my shoes touched carpet, her arms latched onto me, squeezing tightly as she buried her face in my shoulder. "Taylor? What's wrong?"

She shook her head, her embrace closing even more. Gently, I led her back to her bed and sat down, my mental-connectee immediately climbing on my lap. I wasn't sure how long we sat there, only that I grew more tired with every minute, to the point that I was resting my cheek on top of her head and on the edge of falling asleep. "…I felt it…" She murmured, arms loosening slightly, hazel eyes peering up at me through her eyelashes.

"Felt what?" I asked, frowning slightly.

"…Everything," Taylor eventually answered. "There was terror, and panic…then determination and anger, almost vicious satisfaction, then…weariness. Self-recrimination. And…and then desperation so acute I…I couldn't breathe."

"Oh. Oh shit, Taylor, I'm so sorry," I panicked internally, unsure of how to make it better. I hadn't even thought about what she felt over our connection; there were a lot of things I didn't think of that day.

"Don't," she muttered, resting her forehead against my shoulder, "Don't apologize, I wasn't trying to make you feel bad…I just, after that…I needed to see you, to make sure you were alright." Taylor shifted and looked at me. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," I replied automatically, like I had every other time someone asked me that.

 _I know you're lying,_ her voice echoed in my head as she lifted a hand and pinched my cheek, _But I won't push you. I'm here for you, Saul. Even if you wanted to, you can't get rid of me._

My throat was thick and I couldn't help but sniffle, just a little, and hug her tightly. _I know, Taylor. Thank you._ Eventually, our time had to come to an end as I had to fight my weariness, and I could feel her flagging through our connection. _I gotta go._

 _No!_ She yelled mentally, her arms squeezing me sharply despite the fatigue she felt, _Don't go, just…stay? Please?_

Part of me wanted to protest, but all the other parts were too tired to care. _Okay,_ I thought, kicking off my shoes and lying back on her bed, reaching down to tug her blankets up to cover us. Then I wiggled my hand down in my pocket and withdrew my phone, setting it on her bedside table. "Keep watch, Cortana? Please?"

"I will," she reassured gently, my eyes fluttering closed even as I felt Taylor fall asleep. "Just get some rest, okay?"

"I will…Love you, Cortana."

"Sweet dreams."

…

…

…

…

 **A/N: Well hello there. You know how I said I'd probably work on this chapter instead of anything else? Well, I did, as you can see. At more than one point, I was tempted to split the chapter** _ **again**_ **, but I really,** _ **really**_ **wanted to get to the third Daylight Patrol, and I was determined to have it be in this chapter!**

 **And after that, it was mostly just rounding out the word count. Side note, you may have noticed the line breaks look a bit different now, and that's because I'm trying something. So, '...' stands for a change in time, but not perspective. '-' stands for a change in perspective but not time, i.e. the scenes are happening almost simultaneously, and '.-.-.-' stands for a change in both perspective and time.**

 **Speaking of, I had some things I wanted to point out and a few rebuttals to hand out; for one, some people have accused me of making Saul too strong. You have a point, for sure, since I like writing and reading about powerful characters, but my rebuttal is: bitch you wrong. Yes, Saul is powerful, but he ain't the strongest by a long-shot. As he is now, there are way,** _ **way**_ **more Capes and Villains who could kick his ass no problem. Right now his strength lies in versatility which, if you were paying attention to the big fight scene, he doesn't actually have the best grasp on. I also couldn't help but giggle at the people who say he hasn't faced any real challenges because, well, that's exactly right. And that one guy who said Saul should go against Leviathan because he's too strong for anything else.**

 **Let me point something out: As of this chapter, Saul has been in life-threatening danger** _ **twice**_ **. The only things he's dealt with so far are muggers, purse-snatchers, pickpockets and those robbers. Compared to them, yeah, he's OP. But against trained, equipped fighters? Much more trouble.**

 **Following that vein…hoo boy, I said I like writing powerful characters, but…Saul's gonna get his ass kicked quite a bit. I'm not saying by who or when, just…well, it won't be fun for him. Fun to read, for sure.**

 **Austin: Hasn't it already been confirmed that a "Jack-of-all-trades" fighter could** _ **NEVER**_ **beat a "Specialist"? I could be wrong on that though.**

 **NS: Nope. It's still pretty much anyone's fight. The saying goes, 'Jack of all trades, master of none, but oft-times better than a master of one.'**

 **Austin: Ah.**

 **(A quick note because this AN is getting long: Coil's power and Saul's power have an odd synergy and a just as odd backlash. There's a reason for this that I won't spoil but, if you're thinking, 'wait, Coil's a precog' then here you go.)**

 **Also, I'm not sure if I'm going to immediately start on chapter 11 or maybe do something else just in case I burn myself out on this story, but, it's like, super-easy for me to write this. My cup runneth over, as they say, if the cup was my brain. And the stuff runneth-ing over was coffee. And also my brain.**

 **Anyways, big thanks, as always, to m'buddy NorthSouthGorem, m'pal AJR3333, and m'secret love interest Dairegh (don't tell his girlfriend I said that). How 'bout you mosey on over to their pages, maybe read their stories and let them know I'm stalking them?**

 **Heheheh, just kidding.**

 **They already know.**

 **I hope you enjoyed this bigass chapter with all the stuff that went down. If you did, why not leave a review and stroke my ego a bit? Everybody loves a good strokin'. And even if you didn't, how about you leave one anyway so I have something to laugh at?**

 **Stay Awesome.**

 **~Soleneus**

 **P.S.: Partially the reasons why I've been writing so much recently, beside having inspiration, free time and the desire to hide from my family is because I'm gonna do NaNoWriMo. I don't know how long it'll take, besides a month, obviously, so things are gonna slow down quite a bit in November. I'm also looking for a better job, so that's always hanging over my head like the teabag of Damocles.**

 **I'll probably let you know when I've got more for the original story I'm writing for it.**

 **And yes, Uber and Leet are gonna show up next chapter. They've been…** _ **busy**_ **. *Evil chuckling, devolving into** _ **Maniacal Laughter***_

 **Stay Awesome Some More.**

 **~still Soleneus**


	11. That Got Escalated

Crystal pushed open the door to her mother's office, her eyebrows arching as she took in the sight of her mother hunched over her computer with her father leaning dangerously far over her shoulder. "What's up Mom, Dad?"

Sarah Pelham looked up from the screen and waved her daughter over, the mouse clicking as she paused something. "Just a second, let's wait until your brother gets here-Eric!" She called, tapping her fingernails on her desk.

"I'm here," the young man said, running a hand through his blue hair, "What's going on?"

"You remember that new Ward your Aunt Carol wants to recruit?" She answered by way of question.

"The muscle-y one, Brow-something?" He asked, scratching his temple as he moved to join them at the desk. "Is that a bank?"

"Game Master is the one, and yes," Sarah corrected, using the mouse to restart the video, which showed several armed men in full tactical gear strolling into the bank as if they owned the place, incapacitating the guards with stun batons before professionally sweeping the building and gathering all the employees in the main room. All but one, as they noticed a woman in a red suit scurry under a desk as one of the mercenaries swept over the row, leaving her shivering underneath. "Tell me, what do you see?"

"A bunch of well-armed retards trying to jack cash from the wealthiest bank in the Bay?" Crystal offered sarcastically, rolling her eyes. It was always about teachable moments with her mom.

"Tactically speaking, tell me what you see," the woman corrected, peering at her daughter over her shoulder with a flat look. "And keep it clean."

"Well," Eric began, tapping his chin, "There wasn't any hesitation, so they studied the floor plan beforehand. These weren't just thugs in body armor, they knew what they were doing." He sighed as his sister nudged him with her elbow. "Being stupid."

"Those two," the daughter of the bunch interjected, pointing at the pair of mercenaries taking cover by the door, rifles trained on the cop cars speeding up to the steps of the bank, "Were guarding the front from the beginning, so they knew the police response would be quick…because no duh."

"And despite apparently knowing what would go down, they aren't exactly hurrying," the blue haired boy pointed out. They watched the camera as a team of three, each carrying parts of a drill, strolled down to the main vault and set it up. "I'm not sure how they planned to get away, though. Unless they were going to use the hostages."

Sarah hummed noncommittally and let the video play out, watching as the woman tried to make her escape, only for one of her rather nice heels to break as she was running up the stairs. She recovered admirably and continued running as one of the mercenaries broke off to follow. Even though they knew it had turned out well, she couldn't help but frown uncomfortably at the knot in her belly as they watched the woman run down a dead end, saw her panic as the armed man closed in and saw him open fire.

Then, through the speakers, they heard shattering glass and saw a door behind the mercenary burst off of its hinges as Game Master slid to a halt, shouting, " _HEY!"_ Understandably surprised, the criminal spun around and squeezed off a quick burst, but the Ward leaned out of the way and yanked the rifle out of his hands.

"Fast enough to dodge getting shot," Eric muttered aloud, before wincing as his sister grinned.

"'Are you telling me I can dodge bullets?'" She chuckled, brushing a few loose strands of blonde hair away from her eyes.

"Why did I say that out loud?" He groaned to himself, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Kids," Sarah said warningly, arching an eyebrow at them in the reflection of her desk lamp, "Pay attention."

They all felt a bit of sympathy as the Ward froze, visibly trembling as he stared at the bullet holes that, had he been a nanosecond slower, would've been in him. And again, despite knowing that it would turn out well, that didn't ease the tension that built as the mercenary stalked up to the shocked teenager, about to club him over the head with a stun baton.

As the baton went back, Crystal leaned on her mother's shoulder, teeth worrying her lower lip. Then his hand snapped up and caught the weapon by the sparking tip, and they breathed a quiet sigh. Then Game Master cocked his arm back and punched the mercenary in the head so quickly his fist was just a blur.

"Oh!" Crystal crowed, watching the criminal bounce off the wall and come to rest with the pieces of his helmet. "He's _dead!"_

"He survived, actually," the older woman chimed in as the Ward marched up and hopped on the balcony railing above the ground floor, "He's going to eat through a straw for months, but he's alive."

"Huh," their father said thoughtfully, "Strong enough to punch a helmet to pieces, but controlled enough to not kill, that's good to-what are those?"

He referred to the dart-like objects that had been fired from the teenagers' gloves, which caused all the mercenary's weapons to burst into pieces. "I don't know, but I want to find out," Sarah replied, scribbling a note on a scrap of paper. They watched as the Ward descended on one of the criminals, crushing a quickly-drawn pistol with a heel before grabbing the other by the vest and diving behind a counter, slamming his helmeted head into the solid wood with an almost comically loud 'thunk.'

"Oooh, he has _light_ powers," Crystal said in realization, shimmering red light playing over her fingertips as she watched the video of him running across the wall, leaving neon afterimages. "So _that_ 's why Aunt Carol wants to recruit him."

The chair creaked as her family turned to look at her, expressions incredulous. "…You didn't read the dossier, did you," Sarah said more than asked, clicking her tongue at her daughter's sheepish nod. "I gave it to you two weeks ago! What could have been more important than information on a new Cape?"

"Well, there's a big test coming up soon and I had to practice-I mean study!" The younger woman replied, flustered.

"Yeah, in _two_ months," Eric added sarcastically.

"You're going to study that dossier as soon as we're done here," the older woman ordered firmly, turning back to the screen only after her daughter nodded. She hit play and the video continued, the neon-streaked figure tossing balls of light that expanded into larger balls, tossing the mercenaries caught in the radius up in the air.

They watched as the Ward fought hand-to-hand, his movements quick, precise and powerful. Crystal and Eric sucked their teeth as one criminal was hit with a palm-strike that sent him flying through the glass doors. "Did that guy live, too?" She asked, getting a nod from her father.

"Hold on, those cocooned guys got loose," he pointed out, just as one of them whacked the Ward across the back with a stun baton.

Game Master's retaliation, namely spinning the other man around before heaving him over his head, slamming him back-first into wooden desk, garnered another crow. "Woah! That was _brutal!"_ The girl gasped, "And completely unnecessary! …Vicky's gonna like him…"

"Kids, just watch, if you comment everytime he does something-' they both let out low a 'oooh' as the Ward broke a stun baton by smacking a merc in the face and stomped on another that dove for his legs, "-then we'll be here all day."

Nodding, they went silent and watched the rest of the fight, wincing in sympathy as the other teenager was thrown across the room, quietly fist-pumping as he separated the big man from his shield. Then the screen went white for a split second, the view returning in time for them to see ribbons of neon spinning together and reforming into Game Master's glowing body. Then he threw out his hands and bolts of light came spilling forth in a torrent of flashes.

Then it ended with the criminals bound on the floor. And Sarah paused the video. "Test time, kids. How did he do?"

"I mean, I thought he did fine…except that he seemed to forget he had neon powers after the fight started," Eric pointed out. "Also he was pretty brutal, but…"

"He kept focusing on one or two at a time," Crystal added, "Like, he didn't see those two guys get cut free, or the guy who hit him on the back."

Neil glanced at his wife, then back at their kids. "Anything else?" He asked leadingly, only to get shaking heads in return. "Okay. Let me rewind real quick…here," the video jumped as Game Master tore the ballistic vest off a merc. "See there? He ripped the vest off…but that was the only time he did so. That's why they kept getting back up. Speaking from experience, punching someone in full tactical gear, even with super strength, won't put them down. Especially if you are trying not to kill them."

"To summarize; he's powerful kid with a versatile ability set, but lacks experience," Sarah finished, spinning her chair around and crossing her arms. "He's also going to Arcadia. I won't order you to make friends with him, but it couldn't hurt to be nice, at least. I know your Aunt is telling Vicky and Amy the same. She wants to kick-start the movement again, but don't let her pressure you into anything."

"We won't, mom," Crystal replied, her brother nodding in agreement.

"Good," Sarah sighed, rolling her shoulders and shooting her daughter a frown, "Seriously, Crystal, go read the damn dossier."

.-.-.-

He awoke with a hacking cough, his eyes bloodshot and burning as he peeled them open. Pushing himself up drew a gasp of pain from his lips as the puddle of dried blood and bile tugged harshly at his cheek. Managing to separate himself from the floor, he stumbled to the bathroom, flicking the light on and wincing as his head throbbed. Looking into the mirror, Thomas Calvert grimaced at the bloody furrows carved in his face by his own nails, his snake mask lying discarded on the floor. Running the tap, he rinsed his mouth and spat, clutching his head. "What the hell happened?" He'd been doing something the previous day, but what? Monitoring a Cape, he knew that much, but that was a third of what he usually did.

Stumbling over to his desk, he tapped in his password and waited for it to boot up. What he found was more than a little confusing. "How did…a full team arrested…taken down by a Ward…" He snarled, resisting the urge to pound his desk in frustration, if only to spare his sore body. "What. The Hell. Happened?!"

Many plans needed to be changed, adjusted or outright canceled because of whatever had happened to bring him such pure agony that he'd clawed the mask from his face and inadvertently saved himself from drowning in his own vomit. And that stung more than anything. Being in control was like breathing; the fact that _something_ had happened and he'd accidentally saved himself as opposed to one of his many back-up plans cracking off without a hitch made his chest tighten with rage.

There was a ding on his monitor, from the messenger connected to his phone. _From D. Piggot: Where. The hell. Are you._

Calvert cursed again, rubbing his temples as he began to build an excuse. But he couldn't help but think that the backlash, while more severe, felt familiar, somehow. But why?

.-.-.-

" _-ake up! Wake up, Saul!"_ Cortana hissed, the teenaged boy rolling over to blink at her as the door began to open.

Danny peeked in through the gap in the door, watching as Taylor quietly groaned and rolled over, still asleep. He smiled slightly at the messy mass of hair, blankets and limbs that was his daughter and closed the door.

Saul dropped from the ceiling, ear cocked as he listened for the closing of doors and the turning over of an engine. When Danny had driven off, he loosed a sigh and drew his phone from his pocket. "Thank you, Cortana."

"It was about time to wake you up, anyways," she replied, her avatar flickering on the surface of the phone. "Sarah dropped you off and she's an early riser. Might want to get back before she checks on you and finds out you're gone."

"Good point," he muttered, scratching his ear and slipping his phone in his pocket. Moving to the bed, he shook Taylor's shoulder gently. "Taylor, I've got to go. I probably won't be able to come help you train, so think of it like a test. Work your ass off without me directing you and it'll be like a test if your determination or something. See you later."

She blinked blearily up at him. "...okay," she finally mumbled before turning over and going back to sleep.

He set her alarm for seven and crawled out through her window, summoning a car and driving home. No music was played and there was no banter between the two of them on the short ride there. He parked on the sidewalk and exited the car, pausing before dismissing it and sneaking in through his window, closing it behind him.

Though he wanted to flop down on his bed and go back to sleep, he couldn't ignore the call and headed for the bathroom. With that out of the way, he stopped by the couch containing a sleeping Sarah, her limbs sprawled half-on and off the floor. Smiling slightly, he knelt by her side and kissed her forehead. "Thank you for being here," he murmured, stroking her hair once and heading for bed.

He'd just pulled his blankets over him when he heard his door open. Turning, he saw Sarah standing in the doorway, rubbing her eyes. "Sarah?"

"Shh," Sarah slurred, stumbling to his side, "Jus'-'M jus' cheggin' on ya." She sat down on the edge of the bed, her back facing him before she turned and reached a hand out to feel his forehead. "Howya doin'?"

"I'm fine," he said quickly, and she lightly rapped her knuckles against his head.

"Dun lie to me," Sarah muttered, running a hand through her loose hair. "No one's 'fine' after nearly dying."

"It's not like it's my first time," he grunted, unable to stop himself from recalling the mercenary turning towards him and firing. He shivered.

"It's alright to admit when you feel scared or helpless," she added softly, "Especially when you stare death in the face. I would know, better than most, how that leaves scars…visible and not."

"How?" He asked, genuinely curious. He didn't think a single facial scar was that much, bad as that sounded.

Sarah exhaled and opened her mouth, then paused and fiddled with the hem of her shirt. Then she reached down and pulled it off.

Saul got as far as "Uh-" before he fell into a stunned silence as her shirt went up, dragging the tank top underneath up with it. It exposed most of her back, including the edge of her bra, but his eyes were locked on the expansive scar tissue stretching from the small of her back, up the left side and ending on her shoulder. "Sarah…"

She tensed as his fingers brushed the edge of the scar. "You know I used to smoke before this? Even years later, I can barely stand to go to barbeques. When you've smelled seared flesh and realize it's yours, grilled meat becomes hard to handle."

"... How?" He asked, softly following the twisted tissue up her back with his hand. It was hard and knotted in places, unnaturally smooth in others and oddly hot, as if the ghost of the flames still lingered. He realized, looking back, that his handler had always worn long sleeves, even on the days it approached being slightly hot. "Oh…I'm sorry…"

"Yeah," she sighed as he rested his hand on her shoulder, giving her a slight, comforting squeeze, "I don't want to talk about it. I just…I jus' wanted to show you…you aren't alone, y'know? I'll always be here…" She slumped slightly, exhaling and falling silent.

"I know, Sarah, and I can't tell you how much I appreciate you," he replied softly, stroking her shoulder lightly. After a minute, he added, "I might be able to fix it, if there's a spell for that…if you want to, I mean…"

A few minutes of silence passed, and Sarah didn't reply. "Sarah?" He asked gently, shaking her slightly. She tilted back and fell, the back of her head impacting his stomach. "Oof! Sarah!"

But no matter how many times he called her name or gently shook her, she was dead to the world and snoring softly. Grunting, Saul slipped his arms under hers and awkwardly pulled her onto the bed, shifting her so that she was lying next to him that instead of having her legs dangling over the side. His bed wasn't really made for two people, especially not two people lying shoulder-to-shoulder, but it was good enough. Making sure she was covered by the blanket and had some of the pillow under her head, he slipped a hand down her arm and clasped hers, falling asleep even as her fingers unconsciously intertwined with his.

…

Sarah awoke hours later, the dulcet shrieking of her ringtone, though it sounded faint. She sighed and made to push herself out of bed, but stopped when she remembered that she'd fallen asleep on the couch. And also discovered that she couldn't move her right arm. Turning, she found Saul's sleeping face resting in her unburned shoulder, an arm loosely draped over stomach…followed by the realization that her shirt was missing.

Resisting the urge to jump to conclusions, she closed her eyes and tried to think back. _Oh, right. I heard him moving around and went to check on him, then showed him my scars and accidentally fell asleep._ And instead of moving her back to the couch or taking it himself, he'd made her comfortable and slept with her. _This…this is_ very _unprofessional._ Which was not to say that she'd been all that professional from the start.

It wasn't like she really had any choice in the matter. She'd heard from other handlers about how some of the Wards, being teenagers and all, hated being watched or 'babysat.' Some had rather nightmarish tales about teenagers trying to avoid them and sneaking away, even sabotage once in awhile or just generally being little bastards. Saul and Cecilly had been the exact opposite, friendly and welcoming even before they'd known she'd be his handler; It seemed like, in no time at all, they'd opened up their doors and their arms and welcomed her in as a friend.

Honestly, she'd probably been hugged more in the last few months then she had been most of her life. The simple truth was that they made her feel comfortable and cared for, and she was loathe to lose it, even with such a short time having it. That being said, being _that close_ to the people, the _teenager_ , to be specific, that she was supposed to maintain a professional distance from…was not exactly copacetic. The _smart_ thing to do would be to tell them, firmly, that such behavior on both their parts was inappropriate and that distance would be required between them. The _wise_ thing to do would be to call up her supervisor, march into his office and tell them what happened and most likely get reassigned.

…What she was _going_ to do, however, was to keep quiet and enjoy herself. Once Saul was no longer a Ward, he wouldn't need a handler and they could just be friends without her position hanging over them like the Guillotine of Damascus or however that saying went. Their friendship was worth much more than a job. Though a little subtlety never hurt.

Her newfound determination was tested, however, by the sound of shuffling and the feeling of a hand landing squarely in her cleavage. Sarah's cheek twitched and she pulled an arm free, only to look down and realize that the hand on her chest didn't belong to Saul; his arm was still wrapped around her stomach. The hand belonged to Cecilly, who was practically vacuum-sealed to her nephew's back given the size of the bed. _When did…?_ Shaking her head as the sound of her phone ringing reached through her thoughts, she pushed the other woman's hand away and carefully peeled the arm off of her midsection to slip out of bed.

Stretching her shoulder with a grimace, she padded over to the coat rack and fished her phone out of her jacket. "Hargrove."

 _"I called you four times,"_ a recognizable female voice said from the other end, sending a sudden bolt of fear down her spine.

"Director Piggot," Sarah replied, licking her suddenly dry lips, "I-uh, I left my phone in my jacket…why are you calling me?"

 _"Commander Calvert has called out sick and I wanted to contact you about your charge. Keep him home for today and keep an eye on him. Tomorrow, bring him in around noon. Understand?"_

"Understood, ma'am," she sighed, scratching her cheek. "I'll head over there now."

There was silence. Then, finally… _"...Uh-huh."_ And then the line went dead with a click.

Sarah blinked and felt a bead of sweat run down her temple. "...Uh-oh."

…

A loud cackle echoed throughout the messy little warehouse, followed by a mechanical rustle. "Uber!" A pimpled young man shouted, his call answered by another young man, this one taller and more muscular. "It's time!"

"Jesus, man," Uber muttered as he entered the room, his eyes sweeping over the view before him. "You've been at this for _days_. When was the last time you ate?...Or bathed?"

"Feh!" The Tinker waved him off in favor of tinkering with a large, spiked green shell and a fuel tank underneath it. "What does _food_ or _hygiene_ matter when you can _invent_ instead! Especially when those inventions _fucking WORK!"_

"Okay, dude, you're starting to creep me out a little. I know you're happy all this stuff works, but don't you think it's a bit much?" Uber asked, reaching over to grab his arm. "What are you even going to do with all this crap?"

 _"We_ are going to do something kick-ass!" Leet pushed his goggles up, a manic gleam in his very, _very_ exhausted eyes, ringed so badly it looked like he was cosplaying as Sly Cooper. "A new Challenger approaches! The Wheel of Fate is Turning!"

"Huh?" The more muscular teen asked curiously. "Wait, you mean _him?"_

"Who else, dude?" The skinnier one gave him a dry look. "You see any other video game-themed Wards running around? It's Fate! Destiny or whatever. We could make _so much_ cash if we pull this off!"

Uber couldn't help but feel his excitement building along with his trepidation. "What do you have in mind?"f

Leet opened his mouth to speak, but stumbled against his bench and a soldering iron clattered to the floor. "...Okay, maybe some food wouldn't hurt. And some sleep. And maybe a shower." He shook his head harshly. "But first, _IT_ must be prepared! Muhuhaha!" He laughed evilly as he typed commands into a computer and the mechanical beings began to move. It probably would've been intimidating if he hadn't collapsed on the floor the second he was done.

.-.-.-

"You don't have to come with me," I muttered, tucking my hands in my jacket. "It's just a walk."

"I've got nothing else to do today," Sarah replied with a small smirk, matching my posture and my stride. "Besides, sitting around in an empty house would be awkward."

I couldn't find any reason to deny her, so I grunted and continued to walk. I was tempted to go to Taylor's, but I was serious about testing her determination. Not that I thought she'd fail, but letting her have some time to herself was a good idea. And I didn't really want to think about Hero-ing right then. I'd watch the video of yesterday's crime and learn from my mistakes, of which there were many, but until then I preferred to be relaxed. "You hungry? There's a…food place around the corner." I'd never been there before and it was a half convenience store-half restaurant.

"I guess," my handler shrugged in reply, and it was only with the knowledge of her scars that I noticed she only shrugged with right shoulder. How many of what I'd thought had been character tics were actually because of her scars? She never said anything about them and always wore long-sleeves, so I supposed I shouldn't have felt bad for not noticing. I still did, though.

"Hey, Sarah…about-" My question was interrupted by a happy bark and a sudden impact against the back of my knee. "Gah!"

I was assaulted by a flurry of licks and snuffles, happy yipping loud in my ear. Pushing my attacker away, I wiped my eyes and found the lithe little form of a black lab skipping around me, wagging her whole body and spazzing out in the way that only dogs can do. "Sweet girl!" I scratched at her neck and ears and she hopped up on my knee to lick at my face again. "Where's-?"

 _"YOU!"_ An angry voice echoed over the street, accompanied by footsteps and barking. "You will stop-!" The shouter skidded to a stop, her eyes wide before they dropped and her shoulders slumped. "Oh. It's you…"

I hadn't heard someone go from burning anger to sullen resignation that fast before, it was kind of amazing. "She got away from you again, huh?" I asked, standing to look at the girl and her other dogs.

"Only when she smells you," the girl muttered, sighing as she picked up the loose leash. "Makes sense, I guess…"

"Not sure how, but okay," I shrugged, before offering my hand. "I'm Saul, by the way, and this is Sarah."

She looked down at my hand like it was an alien gesture, slowly reaching out and grasping it tightly, but not shaking. Her eyes flicked up to meet mine then went back down again. "Rachel. Hi…"

"Odd question, but…we're going to get some lunch at a place nearby, wanna come? As an apology for messing with your dog," I clarified at Sarah's arched eyebrow, scratching the lab behind the ears.

Rachel met my eyes again, blue staring into blue for a long moment before she conceded with a nod. "As long as my dogs can come," she said, clicking her tongue. The dogs sitting about her feet stood up almost in sync, looking calm, controlled and very professional.

"I don't see why not, they seem very well trained," Sarah replied as we started walking again, reaching down to stroke Sweet Girl's back. "Except for this one."

"Yeah, she's a willful little bitch," Rachel grunted, tugging lightly on the leash and huffing.

"Does she have a name?" I asked, noticing the name tags jingling from the other dogs' collars.

"Can't think of one."

"Is there a theme with the names?" I knew a guy back in Seattle who named all his pets after snack foods, the last of which being a cat called 'Jerky,' which was both odd but fitting.

"Angelica, Brutus and Judas," she answered, pointing first to a terrier, then a rottweiler and finally, a boxer, the dogs' ears perking up as she named them.

"So, older names," I tapped my chin in thought. What would be a fitting name for a willful lady that was also old and respectable? "What about, uh…Boudicca? She was an ancient Celtic queen, I think. She was an enemy of Rome, a rebel if I remember right. Also, you can call her 'Boudi' if she irritates you."

Rachel grunted noncommittally and we walked in amicable silence to the food place, which turned out to be a local fried chicken chain. We got a strange look from the guy behind the counter, but once he saw that the dogs were well-behaved, he shrugged and went about his business. Giving my order to Sarah, she turned to Rachel who asked the table for a random mix of baked chicken. I wasn't sure why she had such a problem with eye contact, though it probably had something to do with two complete strangers inviting her out to lunch; and even then her first impression led me to believe she'd have no problem telling us to fuck off if she was so inclined.

"So, Rachel," I began awkwardly, sitting at a table and scratching at the head that pushed against my leg, "What do you do for a living? Dog trainer?"

Her eyes flickered up to meet mine before focusing on slowly stroking Angelica's head. "Kinda."

Not exactly the talkative type. "Good job? Fulfilling?"

"A little," she nodded. "Would prefer something else. Gotta make do."

"What would you rather do?" A new nose nudged my hand, and I looked down to see Brutus resting his chin on my knee.

"Dog shelter. A big one." Judas chuffed and licked her hand, and she gave him a fond look, though it was only really expressed through her eyes. "Big enough for all of them."

"A worthy dream," I said, rubbing the dog's ears. "What's stopping you?"

She scowled, the most expressing of emotion she'd made. "Lotta things. Money. Space. Papers…lotta things."

I pulled out my phone and tapped a message to Cortana. _Is there anyway we can help with that?_ And after a second I added, _And other things to help the city? Something to do with the Boat Graveyard, maybe?_

Sarah returned with a tray of chicken, fried and unfried, with a couple cups of water. "Here we are. So, what are guys talking about?"

"Just talking," I shrugged, grabbing a thigh from the bowl and peeling the skin off. I glanced at Rachel, held up the chicken and nodded at the dogs around our feet.

"Only white meat, no skin," she grunted, already dividing up a chicken breast into portions.

I nodded and bit into the thigh, and we fell into a comfortable silence broken only by the smacking of lips and the crunching skin. Something I very much enjoyed with Sarah and my aunt was sitting quietly, with no need for words to fill the space or random conversations about nothing; just letting the atmosphere speak for itself and enjoying the presence of each other. Rachel fit into the niche almost perfectly. She looked content, feeding and petting her dogs, clicking her tongue so that they'd rotate out for who was being fed like a well-oiled machine.

I'd have to see if we could do it again.

Then a tingle ran up my spine. My eyes darted around the room before landing on a guy in a hoodie, hunched over with his hands in his pockets, hood up to shadow his face. The hunch was to disguise the bulge in his pocket, one in the shape of a gun. He obviously wasn't there for the chicken.

My hands clenched and I tensed, my gaze fixed on the side of his head as he got in line. Then his eyes, flicking about nervously, found mine and went still. I stared at him, casting my mind back to the day before after I'd been shot at, the cold, burning calm of righteous anger and determination, and let it flow through me.

He gulped, a bead of sweat tracing down his temple. His hand twitched towards his bulge. Slowly, I shook my head, trying to send a message with my eyes alone. He looked at the counter, then back to me, his fingers drumming against his leg.

Then, he turned and tried to casually stroll out, though it was more akin to scuttling then strolling. Sighing, I sat back in my chair and released the chicken leg I'd been subtly clutching like I was going to use it as a weapon if shit got serious. Maybe I could've chucked it at his head like a throwing star or used some of the leftover grease to blind him or something. Maybe that's the next thing we can market to the PRT: Tactical Fried Chicken.

I looked away from the door and found myself looking into Rachel's eyes, her gaze level and steady. Slowly, deliberately, she reached over and stole my chicken leg. Then, still maintaining eye-contact, she bit into it, the crispy skin crunching under her teeth.

Arching an eyebrow, I extended my hand to her side and swiped one of her thighs and took a big bite, the bone snapping between my jaws. Pausing, but still returning the stare, I picked it from my mouth, set it on my plate and then ate the rest of the meat.

Rachel made a noise that could've been a hum or a grunt or a grumble or something, nodded to herself and went back to feeding her dogs.

Weird.

The rest of the meal passed by quickly and then it was time to go our separate ways. Outside of the shop, I knelt in front of the dog and gave her a few final scratches. "You'll be good for Rachel, right?" I asked - well, cooed, really - and she licked my nose. "No more running off and causing trouble?"

She barked affirmatively, tail wagging and I stood to face her owner. "So, Rachel…do you want to trade numbers? Maybe run into each other on purpose? Me and a friend have started running in the morning, if that interests you."

Rachel grunted ambiguously and dug in her pockets to retrieve a battered flip phone that she handed to me. I offered her mine and we traded numbers. "Bye," she muttered quickly, tugging on the leashes in her hand. "Come on…Boudicca."

I gasped happily and giggled to myself as she hurried off, drawing an arched eyebrow from Sarah. "What? She used the name I suggested!"

She snorted and shook her head as we began to head home. "Older blondes are your type, eh?" She asked, before pausing and blinking, as if she hadn't meant to say that out loud.

"I mean, I guess," I shrugged, after taking a second to think, "Most of my crushes are older and most of them _are_ blonde. I've just never really thought of myself as having a _type,_ ya know? Why do you ask?"

She gave me an incredulous look, nodding in the direction Rachel had left in. "You can't tell me that wasn't flirting, Saul. She was acting all shy and shooting you looks when you weren't paying attention, then you stole each other's food and named her dog with the one you came up with!"

I shrugged. "I think that's just the way she is, Sarah." At least I hoped so, otherwise that meant I'd entirely missed a lady flirting with me. And that didn't bode well.

.-.-.-

 _ **Mystery Miracle-Worker?**_

 _Reports of a mysterious new Cape have been making the rounds as serious injuries are miraculously cured. A few days ago, Brockton General had all Emergency Rooms filled to capacity, until 'he' arrived. Within the hour, the rooms were empty, as was most of the hospital. The reason? An unknown Cape wearing robes and what appears to be leather armor._

 _"He never said a word," says a nurse who wished to remain anonymous and witnessed the event. "He just walked into the room, did something with his hands and fixed them! It was like nothing I've ever seen!"_

 _But not everyone is quite as impressed. "No one does anything for free," one person who was healed by the Mysterious Stranger said, "He probably helped people so that they owe him or something. Or he'll blackmail us by un-healing us! I didn't ask to be fixed, I didn't_ want _to be fixed! And now I'm on suicide watch!"_

 _And that's the big question for our readers: is this stranger a good man? Or does he have something to hide?_

 _But more importantly: what does Panacea think?_

.-.-.-

The next day, I had just finished filling out the insurance paperwork for the property of the bank that had been collateral damage during the fight when I found myself walking towards the door to Armsmaster's lab, dreading the conversation to follow. I knew what I'd said was wrong and rather mean-spirited, but at the same time I didn't want to apologize. Not for any real reason, just that I'd been ordered to and my determination to make up for lashing out being rather under-cut by that. Still, I steeled myself and raised my hand to knock on the door.

Then it opened, the man himself standing before, bearded chin grimly set. "Yes?"

"…Hey," I said lamely, scratching my temple. "So, about that day…"

"What about it?" He asked gruffly, crossing his arms.

I struggled for something to say, even just 'I'm sorry,' but it wouldn't come out. "Alright, listen," I finally voiced, "I'm not sorry for disobeying orders and intervening. I only feel a little bad that I didn't do it sooner."

His jaw tightened alarmingly.

"I am, however, sorry about what I said to you," I sighed, rubbing my neck, "What I said was rude, and insulting and I didn't mean it. I was hyped up on adrenaline and…shock, I guess…a little panic too, but…" I shrugged. "You aren't a coward, not even close, and I'm sorry I implied that."

Armsmaster was silent for a few long moments, his teeth grinding together and I thought for sure he was going to tell me to fuck off; but then he slumped and stepped back, waving me in. Bemused, I followed him in, standing awkwardly by a workbench as he stepped up to an odd recess in the wall. Grabbing a pair of mugs, he put one in the recess, and pressed a button, a stream of steaming, aromatic liquid flowing forth. He repeated the process before carrying them back, handing one to me.

I stood there with a mug of tea in my hand, unsure of what was going on. Armsmaster sipped from his cup and sighed. "I must admit, my anger wasn't entirely justified. I was…worried. And afraid that someone such as yourself, someone with great potential, would have their life cut short. In some ways…you remind me of me."

My eyebrows went up and I leaned back in surprise. Then I yelped as hot tea splashed over my fingers. Trading hands, I shook the other one while shooting him an incredulous look. "Really?"

"I didn't always have the beard, you know," He said dryly and I blinked, stunned. Did he just make a _joke?_ "I remember my first big heroic act. It was much like yours, actually, though smaller. A small bank, few customers and tellers, just after Christmas. Three men tried to rob the place and tripped the silent alarm, decided to take hostages instead of running. I was the closest. And I rushed in. Three men with guns, I thought. I could take them, no problem. So I rushed in the back and ambushed them. One of them panicked and opened fire, killing two hostages and one of the robbers."

He fell silent, sipping his tea, and I tried not to think about how much could've gone wrong yesterday. I froze when I was shot at, but out of all the people there, I was the one who'd be the least affected by it. That wasn't a comforting thought.

"I was too gung-ho," the older Cape continued, "Too sure of my abilities when truly, they were lacking. And the worst part? Had I simply waited, another Cape, one with a powerset that could've dealt with them would've been there in minutes. Although things turned out alright, with only property damage, things could've gone much, _much_ worse." He glanced up and frowned. "The tea's not poisoned, you know?"

"Oh, right," I grabbed the mug and took a sip, streams of warmth coursing through chest.

"What I'm saying is, Saul…" Armsmaster sighed again, scratching his chin. "This life…it isn't easy, not on anyone. When mistakes are made, people die. And if you let someone die on your watch, _you_ have to live with it. And it can destroy you." He grunted, finishing off his tea and setting his mug. "I appreciate your apology."

"Thank you," I nodded, raising my glass and taking a drink. "For the advice and the tea. Chamomile and ginseng…my…" I paused, staring down at the steaming brown liquid. How the _hell_ did he know my favorite flavor of tea?

"What?" He asked, frowning.

"How…did you know that…chamomile and ginseng is my favorite tea blend?" I questioned slowly, giving him a wary look. Was his ass spying on me?

He went still, blinking under his visor. "…I didn't."

…Huh.

I sipped my tea in the silence that followed, trying not to think how his 'you remind me of me' line was more apt than we first thought. "Well, I should be going then." Finishing the remainder, I set aside and made for the door. As it slid open, I snapped fingers in remembrance and turned back. "By the way, me and Cortana, we've been, well…we got some ideas for just…a lot of things. Things for the city, things Capes and the PRT. Would it be okay if, y'know, you had free time and we had free time, maybe we could look at our ideas, test them and whatnot. Would that be alright…with you?"

Armsmaster looked at me, his mouth opening before paused. Slowly, he nodded. "I would be open to that," he admitted.

Smiling, I nodded and left the lab, walking a few steps before sighing explosively. That wasn't as bad as it could've been, but I definitely didn't want to do it again. "Save game."

 **Saving…**

… **Done.**

"'Save' what?" A feminine voice asked from behind me.

"Gah! Game!" I spun around, panicking, "I was playing a game last night and I forgot to save my progress, so I was reminding myself to do that when I got home." I calmed when I saw that it was Vista.

"Yeah, whatever," She didn't share the feeling, however, and reached out to grab my wrist, waking across my front, trying to pull me along. I rooted my feet to the floor and she nearly lost her grip. "Come on!"

"Use your words," I said dryly, not budging an inch. "Come where?"

"Gym!" she grunted, tugging fruitlessly at my wrist. "You said you would spar with me, and I wanna spar! So come on!"

I let go of the floor and caught her as she stumbled. "Alright." Somewhat amused and bemused, I let her lead me to the gym before I remembered something. "Uh, Missy? I'm not suited up."

"Doesn't matter," she said shortly, dropping my hand and taking up a simple stance. That was all the warning I got before she launched a punch.

I stepped back and let her fist pass in front of my nose. Then side-stepped a follow-up hook, backed away from sweep and pushed aside a jab. "So…I get the feeling you don't actually want to spar," I drawled, blocking a kick with my shin and pushing back, setting her slightly off-balance. She spun with motion and the air warped as she bent space, appearing behind me. My sense squawked an alarm and I rolled forward as her heel passed through the air where my head had been.

While it was a rather impressive display of flexibility, for her foot to reach my head required her to just about jump, leaving her standing on tip-toes. It took only the lights tap of my foot to sweep her leg out from under her. She hit the padded floor with a grunt, lying there for a second before growling and scrambling to her feet. A flurry of blows flew my way, which I dodged rather easily. Her swings were growing wilder with each miss. "Yes! Now let me hit you!"

"Nah," I said, turning out of the way of a kick. I let her work herself out for a while longer, sweat dripping down her forehead. Eventually, she stepped back and bent over, panting. "I thought we were cool now Missy. Why do you want to punch me?"

"'Cause…you're a jerk…" She huffed, hands on her knees.

"How?"

"Because you're dumb!"

"Harsh." But not entirely untrue. "About what, though?"

"The _bank_ , stupid!" Missy shot back, throwing her hands up. "You acted stupid! You should've waited! You could've _died!_ "

"Not really," I shrugged, patting my chest. "I heal really quickly and I'm fairly tough, especially against normal people. I could probably take a full magazine from an assault rifle and not die, though I don't really want to test that."

"And you know this for certain?" She barked, hands on her hips. "Obviously not! So hold still while I beat the stupid out of you!" She swung again and I dodged again, stepping away from her strikes.

"Okay, seriously, this was kinda cute at first," I said, ducking under a kick, "But why are you so angry?"

She growled and drew back. "Because I was _scared!_ "

I stopped, stunned. "Really?"

Her knuckles sank into my cheek. I should reiterate that, while she's a decent fighter, having been training longer than I have, she's still _twelve_. And I have my Spider-Toughness. A cracking noise emanated from the room as she punched me in the face, and it didn't come from me. Her hand bounced off my cheek and my head turned to the side.

Missy gasped loudly and reeled back, clutching her wrist, two fingers at an odd angle. She dropped to her knees, breathing heavy as tears rolled down her cheeks. "…O-ow…" She stuttered, wincing as she involuntarily clenched her fist and received more pain.

"Here, let me see it," I ordered gently, dropping next to her and trying to examine her hand. "Good news, nothing's broken, just a few dislocations. Might take a few weeks to fully heal though."

" _Fuck!"_ Missy snarled under her breath even as her shoulders slumped her lips quivered as she held her hand. "Dammit…"

I watched her sag in place, all the previous angry energy evaporated like dust in the wind, and I saw her as what she was in the moment; a crying girl. My biggest weakness.

Sighing, I switched games mentally and reached out to take her hand, but she jerked it away. "It's alright, Missy, I can make it better. Just let me touch it." She growled at me under her breath but put up very little resistance as I pried her fingers away and took her hand in between my own. Exhaling, I felt the welling of energy, pure, protective and healing in my body and I sipped of it. "O Thorm," I intoned quietly, Vista gasping quietly as a subtle golden light illuminated her hand, "Lay a gentle hand upon this warrior and heal her injuries."

Missy withdrew her hand and carefully clenched it into a fist, her mouth opening in surprise as she felt no pain, her fingers straight and her once-reddening skin now pale and smooth. "How…how did-? You can-?"

I put a finger to my lips. "You can't tell anyone, Missy. Only myself and the Director are supposed to know that I can do this. Please, it's _very_ important."

She looked at her hand, then back to me. Wiggling her fingers, she closed her mouth and nodded. "…Okay."

Nodding, I leaned back on my hands and observed the girl, noting the way she avoided looking directly at me while testing her healed hand. "…You were scared?" I finally asked, and she flinched.

"…Yeah," Missy admitted with a sigh. "I heard about it when I was in class, but it was only afterwards that I found you were involved. And watching it…I was scared for you, and frustrated that I wasn't there. I mean, you know what I can do! I could've been there in no time flat!" She gripped her hair and growled before slumping. "I guess…I guess I'm not really angry with _you_ , just…all the other stuff…I'm sorry."

"It's alright," I said, patting her on the shoulder, "Maybe find a different way to express it, though."

"Yeah…"

We sat in silence for a second, before a thought occurred. "You were worried about me…"

"I thought we established that?" Missy asked with an arched eyebrow.

"And that must mean…" I grinned at her. "You _like me!"_

"What?!" She jumped to her feet. "No!"

"Yes you do! You like me!" I pushed myself up and threw my arms out. "Aww, I like you too! C'mere!"

 _"Ah!"_ Missy squealed adorably, turning to run. _"No!"_

"Don't fight your feelings!"

…

I sighed as I closed the door to my room and hung my jacket up, running a hand through my hair. Taking my phone out of my pocket, I laid it flat on the workbench and tapped the screen, Cortana's avatar flickering to life. "Cortana, can you project a map of the route I took during my first Daylight Patrol?" A holographic screen rose into the air, my position marked by a dot. "Add Armsmaster and Miss Militia as well." Two more dots, one olive and the other teal, were added. "Now, run through the patrol until the crime is reported." The dots zipped through the map until a red dot blinked to life and the whole thing froze. "How far were the others from the crime?"

"2.8 miles and 3.2, respectively," she replied, lines tracing the streets of the map.

"How far was I?"

"0.34."

I scratched my lips with my thumb and frowned thoughtfully. "Both of them said they were dealing with crimes themselves when it was reported. Where did they take place and how far were they from them?"

The green dots reversed course briefly before another pair of red dots appeared, right ahead of their projected patrol routes. There's no way they could've missed them. "Do the same for day two and-"

A pair of projected screens joined the first, colored dots appearing and moving through the streets until the red dots joined them, dots and distances drawing themselves and a dark picture. "All three days, you were consistently within a mile of the serious crime being reported, while the older Capes were both farther away and distracted."

"What's the saying?" I asked, counting the screens with a finger while my other hand clenched into a fist. "Once is an accident, twice is coincidence, three times is enemy action. Someone, some _motherfucker_ knew the patrol routes well enough to direct all three of us _exactly_ where we needed to be for it to work out as it did, three times in a row. Either they hacked the network, or they've studied the routes long enough to know them by heart."

"And they all escalated in seriousness," Cortana pointed out, her arms crossed as she frowned. "The first was a small time robbery, the second was a larger target, and the third was the biggest bank in the city. I can't help but conclude that they were tests of your abilities."

I pinched the bridge of my nose, growling under my breath. "We need to find whoever did this. If they're willing to waste man-power just to test me, who knows what kind of resources they have at their disposal? Not to mention whatever that… _pressure_ and screaming I heard was. That kind of power, in the hands of someone who'd just throw lives down the drain…" I slammed my hand onto the workbench, my heart pounding with fury as I glared at the screens. "I'm going to _kill_ them. I'm no one's _test subject."_

…

It was the fourth and final Daylight Patrol for me. I'd been purposely given the easiest route, but I wasn't taking any chances. Cortana had dedicated three Subs to constantly monitoring the area, the route, and watching for any signs of foul play. Despite that, it felt less heavy, less tense. I hadn't even known it'd been tense, but the understanding of what had actually been happening added a new weight to the last three patrols, but it felt like the big robbery had been the last test…a climax to that particular arc, if you will.

So the four hours I spent felt more like eight, trapped between some weird limbo of tense and paranoid and oddly relaxed.

Nothing happened, either, except for one time when I was swinging through the streets and I saw someone jumping up and down and waving their hands like a maniac.

I threw myself up, twisted hard and shot a line, swinging back the way I'd come, the strain of switching momentum like that pulling at my spine. I hit the sidewalk and rolled to cut my inertia, coming up in front of the young man. "Is there a problem, citizen?"

"Oh, uh, no!" He replied cheerfully, bouncing in place, "I just saw you going by and I wanted to say 'good job!'" He threw a hand up. "Good job! High Five!"

I gave him a high five and he cheered and ran off. I was struck by the sudden urge to drop to my knees, raise my fists to the skies and scream ' _ **VINDICATIOOON!'**_ but that would've been weird, so I didn't. Though I kinda wanted to. But I didn't. But I wanted to.

And that was the only thing that happened on the patrol. No street crime, not even a pickpocket. After my last report, I decided to take a walk back to base and get a snack on the way. Handing a few bucks to the churro vendor, I pulled my mask out enough to take a bite as I began to head back to HQ. The sweet spiciness of cinnamon and sugar hit my tongue and I chewed slowly to savor it, passing a wide alley and giving a brief sweep to check for threats or crime and only saw what looked like a person standing on the edge of the roof, nothing serious…wait, what?

I looked again and realized that yes, indeed, there was a person standing on the edge of the roof, wavering in the wind. Setting my churro aside, I ascended the building as quickly as I could, the gravel crunching under my feet as I landed on top. The person, a teenage girl by the looks of it, startled by the noise, leaned dangerously, waving her arms until she regained her balance. She looked fearfully at me over her shoulder, eyes red and baggy from a lack of sleep and crying.

"Stay back!" She called, spreading her arms out. "I-I'll jump!"

"Easy!" I held my hands up, "Easy! I'm staying here, alright? I'll stay here and you stay there, okay?"

She sniffled, strawberry blonde hair whipping in the wind. "Just…just go away! Leave me alone!"

"Hey, I'm not leaving you here by yourself," I protested gently, "What's your name? I'm called Game Master, but most shorten it to GM. It's kind of a mouthful, as names go."

"...Zoey," She replied, wiping her face with her sleeve. "What…what do you want?"

I shrugged. "Well, right now I'd like it if you stepped away from the ledge, but really…I just want to help. Alright? Can I help you?"

Zoey sniffed, her lips trembling before she started sobbing, fat tears trailing down her red cheeks. "N-no one can h-help me! I don't-I don't…" She managed to stifle her tears, wrapping her arms around herself and looking utterly miserable and small. "No one cares about me…"

"That's not true," I said, more sharply than I intended, quickly softening my tone. "What about your parents, your friends?"

Zoey shook her head hard, wobbling slightly on the edge. "My parents _hate me!"_ She cried into her sleeves. "I don't…I don't _have friends!"_

"Zoey," I called gently, the girl peeking at me over her shoulder, "They might not…but _I_ do. I care about you."

"Y-you do?" She asked in confusion, before snorting bitterly. "No you don't, you don't even _know_ me!"

Before the bitterness set in and between the confusion, there'd been a single second where there was a brief flash of hope, so bright and pure that it was painful.

"I don't need to know you to care about you, Zoey," I said firmly, and she snorted again. "Hey! Look at me. Look me in the eyes, Zoey," I reached up and pushed my visor on my hair, my blue meeting her brown. "Tell me I don't care. Tell me."

She opened her mouth to so just that, but paused. Her eyes filled with tears once more and her face crumpled painfully. "…You shouldn't," Zoey whispered, looking down. "I…I'm a horrible person…I-I've been such a bitch to so many people who…who didn't deserve it…"

"That does sound pretty bad," I conceded with a nod, "But I couldn't tell you _how_ bad, exactly. Why don't you tell me the full story? Give me some context, help me understand why you want to jump."

Zoey wearily dashed the tears from her eyes with her sleeve. "You wouldn't understand," she sighed.

"Believe me, Zoey, I understand more than you know," I gave her a humorless smile under my mask. "I know how low life can go. I didn't get these powers because I high-fived everyone and smiled too much. Try me."

She looked at me, then back over the edge, fidgeting in place and biting her lip.

"Listen, just step off the ledge and tell me your story," I said, cautiously taking a step forward and holding out my hand. "I promise, I won't tie you up or arrest you or anything like that, Zoey. I'll just listen. And afterwards, if you're still feeling like this…then I won't stop you. I'll let you jump."

After a second of indecision, she turned and stepped down. I reflexively checked my web status; more than enough. I sat down on a metal duct, the girl joining me a second later. She played with her fingers and the arm of her sleeves for a few silent minutes, until she finally spoke.

"Christmas," Zoey started shakily, "That's when it…happened. I was invited to a party…well, I was invited to _all_ the parties because I was…the most popular girl. But this one was different…the boy I liked was going to be there." She sniffed and wiped her nose. "I'd been crushing on him for a long time, but I couldn't ask…there was some alcohol and I had some, trying to build up the courage…then we started talking. We had a lot of things in common, I thought and maybe we got a bit…handsy. And…more."

"Oh?" I asked carefully, trying not to sound judge-y. Wasn't like I was, either. If I'd been in that position, I would've gone for it. If I had been invited to parties. And went.

"It was consensual," she added quickly, before slumping, "If I'd known…so, uh- _a-after_ I thought we'd, you know, get together, but I didn't hear from him all break. When I got to school…there was whispering, pointing and laughing…when I asked, they…they asked if I was planning on-on fucking anyone on campus."

"Oh." So the guy had bragged, not unusual. Was that the reason why she was here? "What happened after that?"

"That asshole told his friends, they told their friends, so by the time school started again, everyone knew he'd made it with the Queen Bitch of the school," Zoey continued bitterly, "My friends…I _thought_ they were my friends…they started spreading rumors, saying I'd _been with_ boys on the football team, the various clubs…even a few _teachers_ …then, one of the boys from computer club asked me, _during lunch_ how-how much it would cost for me to s-suck him off in the bathroom."

Tactfully, I didn't say anything, only reaching out to lightly touch her shoulder.

"My _friends_ turned on me, the teachers wouldn't help and everyone thinks I'm the school bike. My reputation went down the drain…none of the other groups would let me in…I became an outcast…" an errant tear escaped her eye, "But even with the other outcasts, I was shunned. They…one of them was the queen before me. She…she had the most fun picking on me, pushing me around…because…because-!"

She began to sob into her hands, and I surreptitiously searched my pockets for tissue. "Because why, Zoey?" I asked, pressing the tissue into her hands. She buried her face in it and shook her head, strawberry curls ruffling. "I promised I would listen, didn't I? Kinda hard to do that if you don't talk." I extended a hand, carefully rubbing her shoulder. "Just let it all out, it helps. And all I want to do is help you."

"I-I saw her," Zoey stammered thickly, wiping her nose, "With a boy, behind the bleachers. They were kissing and she…had her hand down his pants. I told my friends I saw them fucking and…and I did the _same thing they did!_ I spread rumors, I told lies, I _laughed_ when she was disgraced…and the worst part? _I didn't even remember it until she told me._ " She shook her head again, tears spilling from her eyes as she gasped. "What-I…what kind of-of…I-!"

Her chest heaved as she began to hyperventilate. "Zoey, easy, breathe easy," I grabbed her hands by the wrists and brought them up to her mouth. "Cup over your lips, and breathe deeply, then hold it." She nodded and shakily breathed in, throat hitching. "Hold it, count to four. One…two…three…four. Breathe out, hold it. One, two, three, four. Breathe in." I directed her through the cycle about ten times before her breathing began to calm down. "Better?"

She nodded and swallowed, leaning in to whisper. "I _forgot_ I did it," she murmured, lips trembling. "How does…how can _anyone_ do _something_ like _that_ to someone else…and not even remember it?! Who could _do that_ and just have it be another day?! I…I'm such a horrible person…I never even thought about how it would feel, until it was done to me…she hates me and-and I hate me, too. I was such a cruel bitch to her, and everyone else…things would be so much better without me…"

"Zoey…" I wanted to say something comforting, but also truthful. I needed a bit of time to pull it together, so I said, "That's what happened with your friends…what about your parents?"

She snorted bitterly. "Ruining my life wasn't the only thing that asshole did to me. A week after, I noticed some… _things_ happening. Painful, itchy, embarrassing things. I told my parents I needed to see the doctor, and when they took me to her, I told her what I'd done and asked her not to tell them. They're…religious…" Zoey swallowed, hand coming up to rub her neck. "But she told them anyway, and…th-they didn't take it well. They…they threatened to kick me out…left on the st-streets where the…where the _whores_ belong."

"Oh. Jesus," I muttered, running a hand through my hair. "Okay, so…to be honest, what happened to you…the only way I can think of it is as 'karma.' What you did was… _bad_. Like, cliched teen movie _bad_. Having it happen to you would be like, catharsis."

"I know!" She cried, jumping to her feet, "That's why I have to-!"

I grabbed her hands tightly, looking into her eyes. Slowly, I pushed her back down and knelt in front of her. "I wasn't done," I said gently. "Yes, what you did was horrible. And what happened to you was equally horrible. And you see that, don't you?" She nodded tentatively. "If you had the chance, knowing what you know now, _feeling_ what you feel now…would you do it again?" Zoey shook her head rapidly. "Life is about learning, Zoey. We make mistakes, and the consequences hurt…but we learn, and we do better. Tell me, if this hadn't happened to you, but you knew how it felt…would you still be the same person? Would you act the same?"

For the first time, her expression firmed. "I'd rather _die_ than be that cruel and heartless ever again," she stated, before her features drooped. "I'd rather die _now_ …"

"But now you _know,"_ I continued, grasping her hands firmly, "Now you understand how it felt, how bad you were…and that's _good._ The first step towards fixing any problem, is recognizing that there's one in the first place. Now you know how bad it was…and now you can make it better."

She dropped her head, peering up at me through her thick eyelashes. "…Can I make it better?" She asked, a note of quiet hope in her voice. "I've been so horrible…"

"You _can_ ," I assured, shaking our joined hands, "It won't be easy, and it won't be fun. But out of the ruins of who you were, you can become who you _want_ to be. A better person…a stronger one. All you have to do…is try. Will you?"

Zoey blinked slowly, her eyes unfocused. Then, after a minute, her gaze sharpened and she sniffled. "…Okay."

"Okay?" I asked.

"Okay." She nodded, smiling slightly as she stood from the air duct and I got to my feet. "Could…could I have a hug?"

"Of course," I replied, pulling her in for a tight embrace. Her arms came up to wrap around, burying her face in my shoulder. "I won't leave you twisting in the wind, okay? I'll help you however I can, you only have to ask."

"Okay," she murmured into my shoulder, sniffing. "…Your outfit isn't comfortable to hug."

"Yeah," I chuckled, stepping back. "Protection from small arms fire, stabs and hugs. Best armor money can buy." We stood on the rooftop awkwardly, the wind playing with her hair. "So…you wanna get down from here? I'll buy you a churro."

"Yeah, sure," Zoey nodded, wiping her face with her sleeve. "What's a churro?"

"Oh they're delicious," I said, pulling my visor down and stepping onto the edge of the roof. "Hold on to me."

"Uh, okay," she blinked, stepping up and wrapping an arm around my shoulder. "Why, tho-?"

The rest of her question devolved into a shrill scream as I dropped us off the side, firing a line up to slow our descent. We landed so gently I barely had to bend my knees.

"Okay," the redhead gulped, peering up at the ledge above us. "Now I'm really glad you talked me down. That was…that was terrifying."

"Yup," I said simply, dusting my hands off, "So…churro?"

I got us both a churro and we chatted a bit as we walked down to the bus station to send her home. Apparently, she'd gone for the full cliche and joined the cheer squad, even though she hated it and would've preferred to have been in Lacrosse.

As the bus with her number on it rolled up, I made a decision and withdrew my pad and pen. I scribbled my number and, after a second, my address. "If you need help or you just want to talk, call me. If you want to talk in person or meet up for whatever reason, _call first_. And never, _ever_ show this to anyone, okay?'

"I won't," Zoey promised, carefully slipping the paper down the front of her sweater. "And…thanks. For talking me down, for…listening. Really."

"Anytime," I said softly, patting her shoulder. She smiled once more and stepped onto the bus, taking a seat at the window. As it pulled away, she waved and I did so back, watching it travel down the street and disappear around the corner. "Christ. Fucking teenagers, man."

I swung back to base and found Miss Militia standing for me by the locker room door. "You're late," she said by way of greeting.

I didn't want to tell her about Zoey or her problems. Our conversation, the moment we shared…those were private. And I didn't do it so someone would pat me on the back. "I got caught up chatting with a girl," I replied with a shrug, which was not untrue.

She grunted, a frown under her bandanna. "I know it's tempting to bask, but keep the chatting to Out of Suit Time."

"Will do," I nodded, sounding suitably chastised.

I set my phone in my locker as changed out of my armor and pulled on my jacket. "Saul?" Cortana asked, her avatar materializing above the screen. "When you said you would let her jump… did you mean that?"

"Yup," I replied, slipping my clandestine webshooters on, hidden in the form of simple leather bracelets. "If, after she was done telling me her story, I would've let her jump." I paused just long enough for her to open her mouth before I continued, "Then I would jump after and catch her."

Cortana narrowed her gaze at me, before she realized. "Oh…so you-"

"I said I'd let her _jump_ ," I finished, adjusting a bracelet, grinning at her. "I never said I'd let her land."

…

At home, after a nice meal and a movie, I settled in to bed with a sigh, pulling my blanket up under my chin. Tomorrow was my first day of school. How long it had been since I'd actually gone to school…and my hour at Winslow didn't count. Almost three months, once I thought about it.

Hopefully my first day wouldn't involve me breaking someone's nose.

In the still awake part of my brain, something about sinking a fist into someone's face rang a bell. The vibration traveling up the knuckles, through the phalanges…the feeling of knuckles striking flesh-covered bone, the vibrations lashing back, dislocating fingers…

"Cortana," I murmured sleepily, blinking as her avatar formed. "Make a note for us to look into some kind of tech or metal alloy or whatever that can absorb or reflect vibrations."

"Noted. Go to sleep."

"'Kay. Love you."

"…Love you too."

…

I don't know how long I was asleep, only that I was pissed to have it interrupted. "What the fuck is it?!" I sat up, scrubbing my eyes.

"Someone is knocking," Cortana answered, sounding just as peeved. "Tell them to piss off, please!"

Throwing my blankets aside, I jumped out of bed and refrained from stomping to the door, grasping it by the knob and flinging it open with a growl. _"It's_ _ **three in fucking mor**_ -" My righteous fury gave way to surprise. "…Zoey?"

"H-hey," she sniffed, hood up over her head, her sweater looking grimy. "C-can I come in?"

I tamped down my first instinct. "What are you doing here?"

"I…" She swallowed nervously, hands rising to pull down her hood. "I need help."

The right side of her face was swollen, cheek almost entirely covered by a purpling bruise.

As I opened the door, all I could think was, 'ah shit, here we go again. I'm not gonna get any sleep.' "Cecilly!"

…

…

…

…

 **A/N: So, this was a while coming, eh? Funnily enough, it was supposed to be fairly short, but it got away from me once again.**

 **Real talk: I didn't finish NaNoWriMo. It came, I had ideas, I wrote them down, then it stopped. I could talk about it for sure, but getting it down was almost impossible. So no, I didn't get far. But I learned several things, like the need for a better schedule, a more realistic outlook on my abilities and follow-through. That's kinda my biggest issue.**

 **But I'm gonna practice, I'm gonna work and next year, I'll get shit done.**

 **Speaking of, the last part of this chapter took just about forever. Introduced another character, might keep around, might ship her off, who knows? Next chapter will be the last big 'introduction' chapter and then shit'll pick up and you'll see some time-skips and whatnot. We'll start getting into the meat of things.**

 **Also, on Coil's power and Saul's power interacting: out of all the people who guessed, 'Guest Q' and TheGamer02 were the closest. Yes, Coil's power is Pre-Cognition, I know that. But Saul's power manipulates reality. Combined, and I feel I should stress that again, _COMBINED,_ create two different realities. And yes, Saul in Timeline B _did_ erase/kill the one from Timeline A, and no, he won't find out about it.**

 **Next on the docket: some shit that'll surprise you. Not telling what. If I don't have it out by then, Merry Christmas, Happy Chanukah or Saturnalia or whatsoever your family or you celebrates. Been quite the fucking year, eh?**

 **Big thanks, as always, to NorthSouthGorem, Dairegh, and AJR3333. Give em a look and some holiday cheer from me, why don't you?**

 **Austin: I couldn't help but notice that quite a few of my other friends have been dealing with issues like Depression. I just want to say that to anyone that that has anxiety problems or other things like that, PLEASE make an effort to reach out any loved ones that you may have. Your friends and family will notice if something's off and will worry.**

 **They should care about you enough to lend an ear to you or have a shoulder for you to cry on. Don't separate yourself from them when you need them most.**

 **Dairegh: Depression can be a real serious deal, man. If you've got meds for it, for your own sake take them. Often peeps stop taking them when they feel good, but that's a trap. Depression will be right back at ya again if you stop. S'all I had to say.**

 **Saul: …Wonder if it's a good time to mention my own problems with depression, suicide and such?**

 **Nah.**

 **Stay Awesome.**

 **~Soleneus**

 **P.S.: Some of y'all may have noticed that the story image is different. That's 'cause I drew that up real quick. If you didn't notice, it's different. Supposed to look somewhat spray-painted, but eh. I'm working on a more current version that'll be up soon. Whatcha think?**

 **Stay Awesome Some More.**

 **~still Soleneus**


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